by Cabezon

Extended beyond reaching eyes lately,
these mornings never happen at the same time,
opposites of the cycle we can't perceive:

If images could seep through soil
and ancient rock, then perhaps I'd catch
an image of someone just over the horizon
walking carefully through a town
I can never put a name to, nor their face,

this reality of living that we share without realizing:

I'm continually thinking of points ahead,
or so I've been catching myself blatantly
outside of that laughter coming from outside
(when I can't identify the bearer of new emotions)
and endlessly restless this year, for the habit of it:

upwards with each new sun until I'm not so
much underground anymore, and neither is
that other person, laughing to himself,
letting it twist around in his mind until the idea
has a new meaning, and is safe to say it out loud.

--Cabezon

Added 29 August 1998

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