I do not regret today. It was quiet and good.

I am eaten by a thousand silent passions, I've got a thousand crying horns whispering like cold tin in my ears, Elvis wailing about cold Kentucky rain, makes me want to weep.

"With the rain in my shoe..."

There is so much life stuffed like stars into hushed skulls, and I love every grief-bleared drop of it, like old cold tears, herbal tea with cream on screened porches with holes in the wire.

"...searching for you..."

What should I regret? I have a moment for everything, and if I die, I die shouting cymbal-sheeted drumbeats of hope and truth, of the trembling struggles I love so much. What should I regret? Only that I could not help you see what I saw, to surge with the same fire. But hell, that's the way it's always been.

"...in the cold Kentucky rain."