Saturday, December 17, 2016

Illud Tempus

The dynamics of poetry
Are the same as the dynamics
Of dreaming. Not just rhythmic, but

Choppy, abrupt, as ocean waves
Are rhythmic and choppy, abrupt.
We only seem, and only we

Seem, to return, return. What
Turns below whatever little boat
We float is the never, never the same.

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