Lost Works


Words assembled by some elusive eloquence...

Sounds strung on the air, painted with syllabic accuracy

In the pretentious permanence of print and paper

Wired into sequence by some spiraled filament...

Thoughts spun into sounds and images,

Spilling into space in the timeward journey

When discovery leaps like lightning from the fingertips,

And the Poet gestures like Thor thrusting thunderbolts

From a fortified Infinity...

Startling the limitations of consciousness

With the destruction of brilliance

Illuminating new boundaries,

New directions, new perceptions

Willed and welded into words

Expanding from its point

Of immense imitation

Of imminent immortality---

The solid sculptured lines

Perpetuating the vanishing pulse of Now

In the endless presence of timeless textures---

Yet, as feeble as the fluid moments frozen

In quick silence and swift script

In the unguarded, unprotected moment

When the fragments of his soul

Perish in the portending doom of negligence

And are lost with other remnants of the past.