Thursday, July 22, 2010


"...It might all be gone tomorrow..."

For all I didn't say
But all the more I desired
Powers conjured up
To draw images from you
So far I stand
Further than that
The distance alone
A little late perhaps
Is the name of this place
Shielding me from your hand
Another time
Less felicitous than that
Which imagined you
In the present perhaps
My death so close
And its day so far
The body alone
Is unable to cross
This geography of thin glass
Standing in between
Paper and hand
The eye I shall not see
Nor the hand, I touched
Everlasting the thought
In a street to find you
Haphazardly on the day
When you will have forgotten
The ink of the sword
Travelling to wizardly places
Reaching out for your heart
Losing the sense
Of the spaces that unfold
Conjuring it all up
Into a timeline
From where I jump
Real to become
At least for a flight
Dinner time
On Friday night

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