Sunday, October 10, 2010

Not Much Left

Things disappear
I'm on my knees again
cleaning hair & dust
from the rug garden

fraying I learn
the knotted pattern
four arched heart
wild geese flown

The sand I built upon
blows through the weft


At October 28, 2010 5:15 PM , Blogger ocean lady said...

How time slows when we are at our most desperate. How details catch and hold us. You write it so well.

At November 05, 2010 10:31 AM , Anonymous Dick said...

I've known this and will again very soon! Beautifully rendered.

At November 17, 2010 11:49 AM , Anonymous marly youmans said...

This is like an infant Shakespearean sonnet... I like the turn at the end.


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