Saturday, September 01, 2012


As a reader, you don’t see the problem,
consider it only in terms which are words,
suggestions.  Signs on a pathway,
directions in a note nailed to a tree.
Sun reflected from moon, strobed through
clouds.  And in the bones of each character.

Like night, the malaise, like storm and skies
which split on the stroke of lightening.
There are only words and a lazy twelve, open
window, travelling mind, songs in the wind,
silence in the meanings.  A shiver you
cannot stop.  Like cold water dripping.

The plot is an ocean.  Each twist carries you
further from the shore of comfort,
undertow into an alien mind.

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