it began to rainand did not stopit stopped rainingthen started againthe rain slid underneath the skinthat held the desert togetherand the people, togetherit rained for the span of each lifetimeof everyone who was living here,or found themselves living here,or unable to live hereany longer,but unable to leaveit began to rain six     feet awayfrom where it was not rainingand did not stopit smelled like slugson the bed   I meandogs in the streetthe average citizendid not believebecause they could not seenor could they feeldistressand divisionthrough which a perversely sober person might passlike a sleepwalker through a curtain+then a bell rangall night It rang all nightNo one slept But listenedto the bellframedby empty urgencyNo one could be savedby a dreamEveryone plunged intothe least suggestive aetherThe bell was murmuring   was a seamtorn openit was windyThe fence flew back and forththe bell held to the worldby tanzaku, blank,banging against the skinof its echoesThe bell stopped   was regroupingthe soul   over the neighborhoodcrushed againstthe fibers of a nestbledbled into the riverbedfailedand yet without supplicationslipped out of the skinIt blew againstWho is itWho is at the gateWho is at the doorSomeone who is hungrywho wants me to be hungrywho brought with them death notificationsWho made it backI cannot believe I made it backI cannot believe that I went anywhere and made it backI should not have made it back.I feel like I should not have made it back+I drank the needle   I put water on for teafor them. I wait for the waterfor themwhose face is itin the steam?no water, no steamno teafor themAll the leaves areon the bushno rest no sleepI keep them awakein the middle of the nightis morning for them,they keep askingin the form of those closest, with voiceshappy new year, is it a question?is how are you doing? a questionto which I keep answering,one minute   despair,the same minute   delirium