monday, october 17, 2022

there was one i was trying to write
i had the pieces in my mind
and then the most of them
rattled out to nothing in the
juttering motion of the year

the bit i can remember, it's been
a theme of late, this little mysticism
i'm carrying in my pocket and taking
out now and then to turn over in the light:

an idea of the past
looping back into my life
20 years since i first left home
half a life-so-far ago
cycles and rhymes in the shape of the days
distant lights through the trees

i'm a natural sucker for these minor pareidolias
born to a people who still read the hand of god
in passing birds and the placement of telephone poles

or maybe i just have eyes, once in a while, for
drifts and currents in the way of things
even if i can't say what rocks and channels
give them a shape

either/or i guess

tags: topics/poem

p1k3 / 2022 / 10 / 17