Rain. But the quality was all wrong:
Walking Euclid Avenue I remembered the Norwegian poet:
The age of the great symphonies is over now…
Euclid; cast off buildings in all directions; ghost of Mahler
In this rain that smelled faintly of sulphur.
Borges, I walked through a keyhole just after ten am.
Then spring was green in the trees
And Mahler’s odd China—
That country of total darkness and total light
Was all my own.
Then the city’s birds were more musical
Though the rain continued gently & blue
S.K.
Planet of the Blind 