Footprints rough the road ahead
Each crater cut to my measure
Back from finding another nothing in the wilderness
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Inchoate
So full of half-filled shapes
Fit to bursting with inchoate
Longing for a moon
That is no moon
Just a harbour-thin reflection
On a rippled dinner plate
I could
Sew these ragged dreams to riches
But such half-spun mists
Hang much too soft
To carry all my future-weight.
Fit to bursting with inchoate
Longing for a moon
That is no moon
Just a harbour-thin reflection
On a rippled dinner plate
I could
Sew these ragged dreams to riches
But such half-spun mists
Hang much too soft
To carry all my future-weight.