Friday, May 20, 2011

Writing 101

These are very short times,
very short thoughts —
momentary clarity against
a lifetime of night —
something glimpsed in swirling streetlight
and rain falls, slow concrete
soaks it up, wears it like a medal,
rumbles with the inertia
a blind man must feel just before
each step of faith, each assumption
that the world exists
as a predictable memory
and that the touch which touches
the unexpected is quite normal —
quite visible if only
we can imagine.

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