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The distance of Calligraphy

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The distance of Calligraphy

Don’t go near a digital clock
It is a time bomb reflected in a desperate sweat, rolling down an aching backbone

Find your way  to the axis of a cousin of Big Ben
Lay down on the second hand and wave your arms like an angel
Lay down on the first hand and do the backstroke
Now you are ready to strike a pose on the hub
When you do you fall like black ink
through space
It is a pleasant gravity that surrounds you
And drops you off in that wonderful gift of a place
You melt right into the crisp white paper
of the present
Where your story is interpreted

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About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

6 responses »

  1. Melting into the crisp white paper of the present . . .smiles! Thank you. Waiting for those who interpret, to interpret. 🙂

    Reply
  2. Oh, wonderful! There is something desperate about digital time – so instantaneous, so abrupt! And to have adapted so quickly is, well, unpleasant. Love that clock face with the time to adjust and – hopefully – the sound that goes with it. (And no digital hum, either.) Something other-worldly and very present-in-the-world about all your poems, Wath!

    Reply
  3. Thank you for this. So very beautiful and much appreciated.

    Reply

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