10 February 2009

Song (poem)

I marked the moments of being lost
and being lost was a longing
a song

left on my lips traces of rind
as one hears train sounds
but no train

I marked the moments of the song
by being lost
my compass

as if, before entering a lake
I took the clothes off my clothes
marked the moments on trees

I followed until I couldn’t see
not even rabbits,

not even loss,

there was no trail,
only longing and a song

I marked the moments

being lost was my
song

2 comments:

Sarah Brown said...

Most excellent, mon amour.

Tony said...

There are wonderful lines flashing through this poem. It is one to enjoy, and to read over and over. Best of all will be to here you read it aloud.
Acarasiddhi

 
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