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