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When every somewhere falls away and all nowheres turn into the main everywhere-- where is there then to go but quiet into here? When love turns to sand without any other in view and nobody cares except groanings of self-- might quiet no thinking deep breathing be salve enough to allow tomorrow? When demands on time money time love time patience time agonize the brain choke all muscles as deadlines approach like freight trains honk-honking beware of broken futures at whatever is you-- does a chair still exist in a quiet room for a fortunate sitting-- does air still surround for a breathing-- does the quiet beneath all crash of all brain embrace you for as long for as long for as long? |
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Copyright © 1995-2004 by Alan Harris. All rights reserved.