Sunday, April 5, 2009

Idiosyncrasy Meets Eternity

He’s given early morning –
with its inevitable pink –
no sooner does he notice it
than it is on the brink

of an ensuing blue –
departing and arriving –
momentary innocence
expunged – and yet surviving

to regenerate, give birth
to yet another blink at fixity:
madness or enlightenment? –
to try to follow this prolixity –

as void as it is full –
not here and so completely here
that synapses give up
and zap towards another sphere

more plausible than this.
He’s trapped; he has no choice –
too limited by point-of-view
and his inexorable voice.




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2 comments:

  1. Your vocabulary makes me hard...
    truly. But the meaning gets lost for me when I have to hold a dictionary in my hand... alas, trapped again into learning something. Life can be such a hairy bitch.

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  2. I almost never check to see if I have comments - so I just now, two months on, discovered this. But anyone who says my vocabulary makes him hard is a FRIEND. so thanks for that.

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