The conversation is unclear
Can you moisten the air
Droplets for the words to jump
From one to the other unsteady
Still the rains have waived
Leaving grey skies and cold breezes
Discoloured leaves by warm fires
With chestnuts and fingerless gloves
My hesitation is near
Can you harness the light
Sprinkle sunlight’s beams
For the words to overbalance
There are shadows, but they are nothing other
Than the preservation, the hiding of your face
From the tearaway sun
Ornaments and pictures but they are nothing
Other than a receptacle for our outpouring
Eyes behind our dark glasses
Clocks, but time is nothing but here and now
It is gone, and here, now it comes again
Without any life in the stasis
There are widescreen televisions; nothing without
Electricity, or the creativity of the artist
Along with the emptiness of the audience
Just then, in that absolute moment, I was there again. It moved over me and across me, caught me, completely; the sea, the island, the beach, the airport runway. Oh boy wouldn’t it be great to turn them on and off, to take control.
Just the waking moments to begin with, you can keep the dreams for now; but hey, they too are on the agenda. Before the dead, or the dying or the horrors that we can't imagine. So let's get back to our own stuff, our own immersions to gather
The loneliness of unchosen solitude
Concrete where once there was meadow
Only my time can I explain and even that
Is by no means certain in the storytelling
My mother called her time alone contentment
After a hard, physically tough, and demanding life
I hear the wind through the grasses
I am certain of the leaves falling from their trees
You ask me if I am ok on my own all day
I wonder, for it is all I can, how then will it be for you
Shadows on the paper, finest of sun scrambled hair. Nevertheless echoes on the vision, snowflakes on the screen beware. Shadows on the portrait, finest touch ever seen. Nevertheless echoes on the sound, ragamuffins on the green.
Nowhere else to go, no movement ahead or behind. Nevertheless in our mind travel is untroubled, don't you find. Nowhere to settle, no stillness, no rest, no firmament in the fiction. Nevertheless all of this without a sign of outward contradiction.
Nowhere for expression, no outlet, no physical demonstration to see. Nevertheless we could do it if we wanted, couldn't we, couldn't we. Nowhere else to go, no movement above or below. Nevertheless we are here and always and forever or so.
