Wednesday, March 23, 2016

The Rest

What was now, is once no longer.
The light blonde head on the bunk bed,
The magic of disembodied
Music digitizing the air,

The far away puppet-master,
A real puppet-master, giving
A lecture on puppet sculptures
As instances, not metaphors,

In a university town
Known for Shakespeare, an hour from here
And half a mile higher, in snow,
Are all together as they gleam

In the spotlight of awareness
Circling itself and settling down
Like a domesticated cat
Come to bed. We all need the rest.

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