Now of the impossible,

   nothing can be bound—

     no more than water to sand,

   nor a bird to the ground.

Here in the always,

   perpendicular to now,

     ever and never

   are one, somehow.

Here in the moment

   from there to then,

     this distance is nothing

   and still more again.

As infinite as certainty,

   as possible as guess;

     the wry reciprosity

   between no and yes.



Fall 2007

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