WEAVERS AND COAXERS
(In Progress : 'Stouver's Gold')
I awoke already walking the ridge,
called, somehow, 'Firefly Casement'
by the locals. I never have known at
all what that means. Yet, I knew
(always) what I didn't wish to hear :
'You have mistaken me for something
that once was. My sleight of hand, let's
say, is your Reality. It's fairly simple,
when you think of time just folding in
over itself, mixing idea and image, then,
with consciousness - always changing.
I am that which you guard.'
-
Now, by contrast, this soft Meadowlark
bows, the fleet Robin, seen running, escapes.
Their trapped reality, the very same as mine,
gently enfolds whatever they are. As for me, the
same holds. Blue, speechless skies, the sinews
of grasp and construction, the place of new matter
on a world made of Gold. All true, this, and would
that it could last forever and more.
I really want to be with you.
(In Progress : 'Stouver's Gold')
I awoke already walking the ridge,
called, somehow, 'Firefly Casement'
by the locals. I never have known at
all what that means. Yet, I knew
(always) what I didn't wish to hear :
'You have mistaken me for something
that once was. My sleight of hand, let's
say, is your Reality. It's fairly simple,
when you think of time just folding in
over itself, mixing idea and image, then,
with consciousness - always changing.
I am that which you guard.'
-
Now, by contrast, this soft Meadowlark
bows, the fleet Robin, seen running, escapes.
Their trapped reality, the very same as mine,
gently enfolds whatever they are. As for me, the
same holds. Blue, speechless skies, the sinews
of grasp and construction, the place of new matter
on a world made of Gold. All true, this, and would
that it could last forever and more.
I really want to be with you.
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