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Saturday, September 24, 2005

there the lines cross - poem

There the lines cross and some form of horizon
but the distance ebbs and flows
as physics surely did not intend

this room swells and spins
with a blown-glass sharpness layered
over everything – focusing the detail
briefly as it whirls

will it ring if I strike it?
one crystal note of clarity?
or will it shatter into eye-reflecting fragments?

dazed on white Egyptian cotton –
or not – I can but wish –
as planes and virtues of what they say
reality is, meld with a flattened
one dimensional moment

some lag of time, in vision
from here to here – a dragging,
colours stretched in supple streaks
and objects now unleashed
from their moorings are free to exist
wherever they choose

the rules for everything
for words for thought for movement
have slipped a little
beyond the edge of memory
I can feel them pressing in
but can’t yet prize them out

leave them there then
furring up

nothing matters and neither do I
so I knock
with my thoughts upon the glass clear edge
and listen to it sing

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