my poetry is a dreaming devil
shortsighted and sensuous
hoping only to grope your hand
and perhaps your innerwrist
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
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If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction Remaining a perpetual possibility Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind.
2 comments:
lovely.
oh wow. a commment! it's like seeing a ghost
gracias
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