a year old poem for D
Radio waves and coiling wires
Airplane tickets and balding tires
These are the things that fill the spaces
That come between our waning faces
I have a map of this land aging
Left behind, from prior staging.
Getting me from here to there
Took more than a passing care.
Believe me I can see the distance
And for a moment muse the instance
Where all the cities scrunch together
And we could touch the end. However…
No scissors or sharpened blades,
Could cut the way the land cascades.
When I am here… and you are there.
And I can feel you everywhere.
–ECW
Poem 33 Edited – Poem 33 Revised