Saturday, August 29, 2009

Nothing Yet, However

Sitting naked, semi-formed – haloed by
a scattering of orange, blue irrelevancies –
eyes drawn just enough to warm – and warn
of some impending sentience: something just

outside the gate awaits, perhaps – perhaps –
there’s something in the creature’s proto-lap
that may evolve into the prize: but you
must wait for those emerging eyes to tell

you what it is and if it could be yours
and if you’d want it anyway. This is the stark
beginning of the play, the thought, the love,
the first brave breaking through the dark,

the ambient diffuse new light: the shape
just starting to attract your sight: a ray
illuminates a curve of dome. Nothing yet,
however, which has quite become the poem.


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