I cannot read straight
sliding right along a line
until sense attains a point
at the sentence’s end.
With smeared demarcation,
proximity creates connection
until the sloppish phrase serves
to resonate an angelic chord.
Possibilities spread
like alluvial fans;
a river’s frayed end
absorbed by its future.
I wander between lines:
lost in another search,
confused by bread crumbs,
distracted by markers;
there’s always too much
to do to contain it all
within my margins set
somewhere by someone.
(June 21, 2015)
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