Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Fragments for a windowpane (Second Act of a virtual love story)


III.  Like a moth in love and months

We flicker

at the edge of light, separate

and not.

Onscreen you write,

            I write,             we

somnolent, alight.

We are
swept up, swept under,
here and there and
nowhere, which is to say,
spark gapping,
propiniquitous in our

Again and again,
(my beloved, my one, all of my heart)
we say
we miss


IV. Change it should stop with not.

 Every story has more than one version.

Do not believe what I tell you do not

Once there were three. No

more—if me and thee and he,

then she.  And she. And

deception. And

daring. (And there would be

exhilaration, if not

expiation, or simple

filiation, or....)

(Please here do not state such mistakes.)

I cannot


these odds: 

How can you be
beside me, when you are
so far away?

How can she be
so far away, when she
is beside me?


not always what

it’s cracked up to be--

(that's when the dog barks).

No comments:

Post a Comment