Friday 7 October 2011

Poetry


Look, sometimes it sings
and sometimes moans.
It write itself through
effort and splurge
from healing dreams.

Sleeping allows dreaming
and sometimes, but sometimes,
we catch a dream in rhythm
- not making it necessary –
but crackling and interesting

because it’s truly sad
to meet people walking
vacantly through an empty
wilderness – sighing,
reminding of ourselves

and, in all the words, one
authentic line might catch
a heart in ways not
logical or thought through.
When it works, that’s the work:

like, one letter could momentarily
turn this world to another
fractionally more unstable
but nascent and waving.
Please come along, it’s your time.

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