Friday, October 28, 2005

Monolith

In the tower-room you
could not see your hands.
I could see them for you.

They were white.
They were not
located by your wrists.
They were not old.

Things were starting to
come open for me.
You asked if I could see
the white walls.
I could.

In the book,
the king who banned
boats from his coasts
regretted it.
No one could get in.
The people mutinied,
on both sides.

3 comments:

H. W. Alexy said...

A very unique approach, contingent upon the premise that I'm reading this correctly, yet nonetheless a good write and good read.

Helm.

AnnMarie Eldon said...

the sudden knowledge, too late almost (as if)
excellent

David said...

thanks both

--D