Thursday, January 10, 2013

Glass Hope

Curled up, asleep, twitching:
dreams of worms, dreams of monkeys,
dreams of a woman’s hidden heart.

Trapped inside the shelter of a shell, shell-
shocked and peering around corners.
Never pushing either foot against the wind.

Walk away
from the phantasmagoric.
Walk towards
something real.

Head hits the floor of this life;
breaking, spilling, and losing light—
black goo oozes from the inside.

Consumed is that conscious hope,
made of gold light and glass.
The shattered remains lost
or engulfed by tar.

(From the book Kairos)

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