Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Come Hither, All Ye Empty Things

I will hold you in my basin.
Without you I am one of you.
I am motion. I am swimming.
Time is only my perception.

These are my intersecting waves.
These are your boats that disappear.
These are my words, your lives, my graves:

The thin blue sky outside my eyes
Barely restrains an illusion
That I am, also, blue and kind,
When I am dark and cold, and lie.

Megista gene disappear
Into fine-webbed nomenclature.
Still I am doubt, and I am here.

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