Saturday, April 6, 2013

Improv for Jean Vengua

The person I thought I knew wasn’t.

The shadows creeping across our lawn.

The sentence which seemed complete.

The haunted aspect of my/your/whose speech?

The pronoun which won’t go away.

The resultant tones.

The first time, what’s between, the last time.

The history of now.

The future of now.

The forgotten question.

The Zen of frozen thought.


  1. Oh this is beautiful, Tom. Thanks. And timely, as Michael and I have both been re-reading Unprotected Texts for the last couple weeks. Remembering what draws me to your poems. Trying to find my way back (again) to some kind of honest language. Or at least a good question or two.


  2. Jean,

    I have been enjoying the "dailies" at your blog.
    And it's good to know that someone is still reading UT. Thanks.