Saturday, March 15, 2008

An Insomniac's Dream About Hope

It takes a lot of ink to sound like calligraphy,
Enough to pave the road to here and there and
Asymmetrically, reluctantly back. Following

A caramel moon canoeing in-and-out of clouds.
On twenty-seven more occasions I will swear I have never
Seen the moon that color.
The constellation Hercules push-pinned to the sky,
Safer than every airplane ever mistaken for something
Constantly fixed. Everything only constantly fixed to
Anything that ever got lost in the crease of a letter.

Every insecure without-teeth smile,
Every Lenten fish sandwich bought
To appease false security.
Dissymmetry personified:
In the lack of finding a fixed
Point to orbit around,
In the blame of
Interchangeable person-places,
Incongruence in the alignment
Of the reason that came before
The Reason.

Fate is an inversed factor tree,
Narrowing the margin for error
With every risk closer to purpose.


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