Sunday, April 4, 2010

re(turn)

That which has been traversed cannot be recrossed. There is no use in trying to plough a field with a fork.

It's a clouded convolution but I am holding out for rain. I'm not sure where the the moment stops and where I begin. But I am learning, slowly burning small bags that appear in my dreams. I am tracing outlines round the edges. Dotted lines that let the light in.