Wednesday, August 18, 2010

1045. ENTERING THAT EXIT

ENTERING THAT EXIT
Having tried the past and found it wanting, every
fiber of my being formed another stance within
itself, genetics be damned. There wouldn't
be anything to show in this mirror. I would
be an angular man. Wearing the suit of the
sun and the armor of the day. Tapping new
rhythms along dusky paths of paper and chalk.
Not even children would hear my tales.
-
Such plans for tomorrow took me far : steadfast
along the ancient river. Filled with words. Running
high current along the shoals of indifference and
tearing up the land. Bridges needed rethinking
after I passed, and the cold, clear logic of the
old engineering went for nothing across
my entered fields.
-
Look! I have built houses of mud and
sentry-sheds of solid gold. My paths
and roadways, somehow, have no turns
but are not straight - yet they always
bring one back, after time, right to
the point of one's departure.

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