Dawning on me
there are eyes staring back;
that what I thought was
vacant air is
occupied
by eyes and a
soul
Startled,
I am caught in a strange
reciprocity
and idle musing is
no more
Here
for only a slice of 5
minutes, it impossible to say
more, to do
more
Yet it is precisely
this impossibility of a
mutual stare,
resounding through the
lutes of centuries
that fill our minds with
perplexed obsession and
our hearts with
unexpected
longing
Dark stranger on a
spiralling bike:
snow-tipped tree leaves shift their
skirts
and uncommon beauty
glints in the
dappled light;
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
128. Surveillance
Somehow the night gives pause
to this commonplace
world
An empty library lit in the
late winter darkness
glows with a new
fervour
Devoid of blood,
do we finally see its
architecture, itself for
itself?
All this
wasted electricity, which could power
a small African
village
or whose space could
house a thousand
hobos
Such irony, such impossible
possibility, is this what
we observe –
plants in an oft-neglected
window,
the tantalizing glow of a
pop
machine?
In this silence,
I reclaim
sight
Never at home when others
occupy these walls,
it is in
contemplative silence
that these buildings
seem as lonely as I
am
Yet emptied of follies,
they are locked and cold; and I
must go
before the moon begins
suspecting
to this commonplace
world
An empty library lit in the
late winter darkness
glows with a new
fervour
Devoid of blood,
do we finally see its
architecture, itself for
itself?
All this
wasted electricity, which could power
a small African
village
or whose space could
house a thousand
hobos
Such irony, such impossible
possibility, is this what
we observe –
plants in an oft-neglected
window,
the tantalizing glow of a
pop
machine?
In this silence,
I reclaim
sight
Never at home when others
occupy these walls,
it is in
contemplative silence
that these buildings
seem as lonely as I
am
Yet emptied of follies,
they are locked and cold; and I
must go
before the moon begins
suspecting
Monday, February 11, 2013
127. Sylvan Daphne
Farewell,
shadows
You brought wonderful darkness
to my life,
imbued it with
strange, special
meaning
Always searching,
we can never win when we
vie with shadows
All around me
are happy faces,
all smiling;
it is my birthday,
it is Black Friday,
they are smiling all the
time
Taking my place amongst
their artificial
joy,
I realize their artifice is false
and mine is
true
it is only I who is
pretending
My only regret being
why I could never
figure out why I was so
unhappy
Always questioning,
always wondering,
always
dreaming –
Perhaps there was only this
world,
these trees,
and that is what made me so
sad
In memory of Sylvia Plath, who committed suicide on Feburary 11, 1963 at about 4:30 AM.
shadows
You brought wonderful darkness
to my life,
imbued it with
strange, special
meaning
Always searching,
we can never win when we
vie with shadows
All around me
are happy faces,
all smiling;
it is my birthday,
it is Black Friday,
they are smiling all the
time
Taking my place amongst
their artificial
joy,
I realize their artifice is false
and mine is
true
it is only I who is
pretending
My only regret being
why I could never
figure out why I was so
unhappy
Always questioning,
always wondering,
always
dreaming –
Perhaps there was only this
world,
these trees,
and that is what made me so
sad
In memory of Sylvia Plath, who committed suicide on Feburary 11, 1963 at about 4:30 AM.
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