Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Poetics (v. 02)

It comes out
or through
holes like eyes
or windows,

film screens or beams
of light that dance
crossing from past to
cars passing, passed

Your footfalls marking
time or distance
paired like wings
moving air
and sometimes light

Nothing seen
but images
like exhalations
left to fill spaces
unseen until now

pens down,
heads out

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