“Striking Images “
Striking images, prehensile joys recall that
Memories linger as cinders in the shadows, sorrows, which is to say
What begins in joy must have an end. Would that the execution’s stay
Made sense beyond the dream, the diagram of calculated error in the flat
Of one man’s palm so that intrinsic to the finest fabric’s slightest flaw, within
The stitch’s realm materials might negotiate what only an apostrophe
Can define in this fine weave or that sublimity of tapestry;
Skeins and lots, souls and families suffice to begin
Again or to elude what will or will not last.
Sadly, even they who know sit quietly as accidents upon the shore
And know that what they know they only borrow.
So, too, fireflies and dragonflies worn
Loosely by horizons of a world so few if any ever see. They merely cast
Aspersions for the doubtless: Ask them, then, who folds the seas
And and sets them free, and what they find in eternities.