Tuesday, February 16, 2010

untitled poem written after reading Stanislaw Lem's One Human Minute

a complete or impressive collection...

recently asked,
'is there something within
that determines without
is it mind that permits all matter to move,
or perhaps matter that enables time 
and its resemblances to float freely through the mind,
and offer Either/Or - as at confession

for we haven't any sand,
and yet the hours somehow betray a linear movement through the desert

...of divine or prophetic tokens

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