Tonight remove whatever remains.

Last night we lay listening to your one story,
of being in love. We lay around you,
stunned like the dead.



No wineglasses here, but wine is handed round.
No smoke, but burning.

Listen to the unstruck sounds,
and what sifts through that music.



We don’t need wine to get drunk,
or instruments and singing to feel ecstatic.
No poets, no leaders, no songs,
yet we jump around totally wild.



No better love than love with no object,
no more satisfying work than work with no purpose.

If you could give up tricks and cleverness,
that would be the cleverest trick!