Tuesday, October 11, 2011


Note: To get the full effect you must print this poem out and hold it in your hands
The poem,
In the hands of the reader,

Marks the time with rhythm 
Which holds the words 
That point beyond the page. 
Like the rising sun 
Which gives the earth its first light, 
You give the poem to the mind
That finds you in the page
When it points to its beyond. 
But yesterday still beckons 
The mind that contemplates 
The poem that gives the invitation  
To leave it all behind…

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