Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Considering Voice Blogs

Should parts of me exist beyond immediate reach,
as though, walking down a particular road
under peculiar sunset, I can’t dial in to where I am,
rather wait. It will all make sense and be recorded
in a small room fourteen floors above the pools of tonight,
muttering sixty-seven eyeless words, while slowly
drinking tea.

And it will live forever in frozen electrons—dragonfly
captured in sap after thunderstorm over Lake Warren—
these words which become one descriptive—fading flowers
stale with their experience, their interpretation of flower,
their conversation with the air—even they will create
the imagination of dead moments—even they will travel time..

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