Ineed analysing a poem: i think it rainsthat tongues may loosen from the parchuncleave roof-tops ofthe mouth, hangheavy with knowledgei saw it raisethe sudden cloud, from ashes. settlingthey joined in a ring ofgrey; within, the circling spirit. o it must rainthese closures on the mind, blinding usin strange despairs, teachingpurity of sadness. and how it beatsskeined transperencies on wingsof our desires, searing dark longingsin cruel baptisms. rain-reeds, practised inthe grace of yielding, yet unbendingfrom afar, this, your conjugation with my earthbares crounching rocks