Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Gate B10, Ten AM

Nothing is richer
Than the wonder of becoming,
Than the boredom of becoming
Each moment richer.

Here is an airport,
For which the future has no words,
A fen of nostalgia for words,
Eternal airport.

The end is so far
From this half-pleasant waiting room
This heaven of waiting, this room
Where nothing so far

Has happened except
That passenger with the guitar
Practicing blues on his guitar,
Strums to no effect.

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