In the soft cocoons of children’s tears | moth mother | come back | Do you know how silk is made? | Glittering feeling, no impression may be wrought of it | When the threads tear | spaces open up | into them | fall Sherlock | centaurs, twisting and writhing | the scent of detergent | they use in school | the scent of detergent | they used on these sheets | and pillows…

Clockwork in the heart, like the psychedelic | bumps and twangs | of early Pink Floyd or | Majesties‘ Stones | Crotchety and a bit | sporadic | echoes in hollow boxes | stop motion | jerking to a halt, but… | Stroke fingers down | an old dress where it hangs | its papery silk jade | broken into emptiness | by living | Ah, world of what was… | If you feel hard enough, you might | hear the summer of wings | the young | emerging, the nights’ | great dark air | waiting…

 


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)
(this poem, August 2013)

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