Wednesday, 7 May 2008

He Remembered His Own Sarcasm

My eyes close
And I return to the room
But calming
And warm
Transient harmony
If only for a moment
Before the other reappears
Outside of my eyes
The pressure and the weight
Light again
But cold for its space
And words that come and go -
Through that man we know no more
Except if wishing for northern slur
And praise of the old and grateful dead

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