Tuesday, 27 November 2012
The first word of any new day
could maybe be yes or maybe no;
both words seem equally valid
reactions to onrushing light.
Maybe look romantically back to yesterday’s love
or glance for tomorrow and hyena laugh:
inexorable fate is pushing through now;
growing from substances, maybes and dreams.
Maybe laughter is tearful and ugly's a beauty
- something is nothing – and maybe we’re falling
conscripted by newness, up, into destiny;
hello and, well, thank you, maybe today.