Friday, May 13, 2005

Silverpoint

Another cheap theft:
picked wild flower,
tide-tumbled pebble,
strand of his life’s gossamer
through the judas grid
on double elephant,
foreign whispers, faint signals.

Shrug back at what’s undrawn,
sidestep beeline
arrowheads of focus,
la page est introuvable
the page cannot be found
all my sites crash at once.

Human channel hop
flits repined, reads walls,
pianoman thoughts
a twisted phone cord.

Deeper – where next?
The hair, why straggle it unflattering?
He would have moulded
northern morning light
yet his eyes disparage sleep,
swim the night pelagic,
writhe at his cursed reflection.

Charred deception arcs
across our times
then crackles.

His silverpoint
plays with shadows,
with parhelion glare
while I can only cross-hatch
with the stump of a jaded 2B.

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