#279 - waking

                              

 

28.ix.20

279

waking

for time pieces

 

 

is it afternoon

or somewhere?

 

what do the birds say?

how is time to them?

 

fluff of my socks to foot the bed

 

any day of the week

hour

moment

year

 

it is the place where a thing was heard

 

comes with own light

last year’s radio

anything out of the book

and none of the latest catastrophes

 

enough of the erstwhile woulds and coulds

 

voyage over the map

call the colours of where we’ve been

and who possessed stretch yawn

 

a moment is what I’ll be just

 

where a forest is always falling

and we are come from far

 

here’s the turned out season

with the pockets on display

 

here are the old names

for what will be

 

out of the turning blur

must be urgent with now

 

then the wheat dancing

there falls the snow

 

will we wake

or shall we?

 

these are the lungs

from puff were left

 

could it be me?

is it you beside?

 

say, in the moment

for my bubble, float

 

it’s breakneck

everyone’s home

 

an interval which is to say

notes towards a melody

 

stroke brow

take care

make trice

 

and gone we have what’s here

something bitten

before the swelling

before the sting

 

the all-till-now made moment new

 

I make a day of all the parts

 

come we could live here

in the time it takes

no time at all

 

follow the arrow

come to love

 

find me

won’t you

where all this remains a question

you are asking now