Not now, I'm vacationing with words


Words are setting—long slope
of the sentence as though

though we have tongues which are
wet clay / though we have tongues
which are night / though we have music
which drifts away

and we touch so little.

Oh, always reaching / surrounding
in the cocoon of our imaginations

and we imagine warmth / we imagine
motion / we imagine the linear between
point and point

on the plain which is wet clay / which is night
where we see daylight

and history / and the ownership of history
which is definition.

It all comes down
to moment and words
which stretch the moment / which stretch
the moment’s skin over
the emptiness between / which stretch the thin wet clay
until the moment
we imagine we
see purpose
greater than the void.