Monday, September 17, 2012

Be Chronological

What we are not is the past. Passed? One is.

Venus rises in the east. October morning slipstream. You forget your first.

Cup of coffee. Things without names. Or things before naming.

The old impulse at last understood. You wave. The barn door hangs perpendicular.

To be cognizant is to be chronological. What does the snake call you? Five a.m. rabbits in shadowy clover.

This is for you which I wrote. Frozen green beans, cold tea. Hamlet dithers.

A long sentence is still. Before the kiss then the cause.

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