Monday, June 05, 2006

Poem # 561

After an End

There is a letter
outside in the rain.
Words rush
away from the gutter,
sift inside spaces
between fibres,
revealing all
answers.

Towards the end
of the page,
where an edge points
to another empty street,
the ink fades
like a stray fish
swimming beyond
the last rippling
horizon.

Oh my friend. There was always an opportunity to say "no" before the inevitability of this end. :-(

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