|
| |
|
crossings
|
|
|
there goes lament of a past time and comes
dawn, another page, another rain and autumn
springs upon you like a sleeping beauty, a
burning leaf, a swishing wind. ...
surface water rippling under the wind's thin fingers
i hand you a page of my history and you breathe it
i hear the creaking of time, smell dust, smell speed
and change
you break into a smile
and hand it back to me. |
|
|
switch
chicago, sept. 26, 2001
|
|
|
|
