symmetry in cloud, treason
lies in Heraklitus’ stream,
needles are lost in a forest,
words hobbled lame
can these words live?
spewed as unmetered seconds,
as gamblers’ coin, not seeds
but stones kicked onto gravel.
Once they spoke
of their own volition conjuredjinni castles feasts juggled
puns joked with children till
like gods they fell tangled
in nets of their own cunning
crushed thin as ice in the crude
jaws of calculated time.
I write my story
on water, stutter in smoke,
break it between leaves, lose
nouns and tempo, yet would still
rhyme it in hope, in love.
Speak to me!
can these words live?
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