Losing the sun’s feet, so the day grows even lighter | leaving no trail for the trackers to follow | Episodes, stored in journals | like shadows in mirrors and wine in underground vats | Where the boat went after our glance ran out | and south was turned | As always, an edge was waiting

Surrendering the final | And even the gesture of surrender, the classical | figure of the athlete in marble | racing still under dry, yellow leaves | Kisses, dropped one by one like twigs and pebbles into an old stone well | Words waiting for words to find them | and the night | not the last | bringing new ways to love, new ways to be lost | Sunlight, on the side of a kettle | A note with a date, scrawled | on the back of an envelope | Eyes, very calm, watching | Are you seeing the past?

 


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)
(this poem, July 2014)