5/03/2006

Of Journey

Each man thinks
of distance,

white, strolling
patches of light

grown quiet,
stronger,

different.

The body is
a foot, a shoe

the length
of darkness,

the lungs
of night

filled with
"entering" -

a mouth
a door,

a crack
within

the stone;

my warm breath
on a window...

a small
instrument

of journey.

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