Thursday, September 01, 2005


When words fail,
I feel as though
I walk through waves.
Events wash back and forth
across a world
where each breath
is only the illusion of movement.

Though sunrise and sunset
click by like miles
and mountains disappear
into the night to rise as meadows,
the wind which moves
past my body, the wind
which trawls clouds, the wind
which is a blender—that wind
is the same wind
that has always been,
though events once washed
over me now recede
without gaining distance
from the fading footfall
I drag across this beach.

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