Which We Have Blindly Written
with just time enough
to glimpse the slow
merit of tenderness
we gather up our words
& read them with the keen
sense of being torn apart
by rhythms & short intervals
raised up arches & tiny details
we did not know we would never
experience this moment again
the cruelty of language
the grammar of audacity
adventure without an epilogue
notions without obstacles
with just time enough still
to balance tomorrow’s oblivion
by a void in our beating heart
silent music & dizzy motion
how we sustain our breathing
becomes a transparent miracle
which we have blindly written
**
Greetings to you on this frosty Monday, friendly readers. With little to share except heartfelt thanks for all of the lovely emails and feedback on my two short prose pieces. I am so pleased they were received so warmly and am mighty proud of myself for completing and sharing them here. The new piece I started has thrown me for a bit of a loop. When the character introduced himself, I had no idea I'd be delving into a racy subject matter so I'm interested to see where he takes me.
Just a little poem for today. Something to help clear out the cobwebs for more creative writing ahead. I'm banking on this week flying so that Saturday gets here in a hurry. Tragically Hip rolls into town and I am PUMPED. Date night with Gord Downie is always something to look forward to. Stay tuned to this space for my review of the show.
Short and sweet today, just like me. Stay warm.
In propinquity,
Nic
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