11 December 2014

23 November 2014

2459




















2459
Light wants darkness to have its breath,
Else it is too fine too draw.
It's organic:
Not of shadows being,
But by them defined,
As a thought's eclipse by circumstance.

11 October 2014

2441





















2441
Death's counterpart is time
That measures without a movement,
Organic as breath.
My window on the world
Is a close prison,
A brief hour's view of infinity.

21 September 2014

2434





















2434
A gust of my affection
Set a truer course in this sea
Swept by the same wind that sweeps me.
What paths lie in this fine-grained field
That from expectation alter?
The true's within this larger sphere
Whose father's my affection.