4:27PM, Thursday
I am thrumming with the possible:
pangs of protest, violence,
stomach stirring;
As I sit with echoes
(bannerman in shadow),
knowing our songs
Will all be silence,
forms made anew,
reassembled to journey,
Electric against sky,
waves breaking beach,
wearing the sand
Smooth and broken,
polished for a danse
macabre, dizzy with strength.
****
There was a before,
there will be an after,
there is a now between,
That I live in,
with all possible things:
coursing currents
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