Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Action Poetry

this is a moment
hanging in slow movement,
words lacking sound
air hauntingly still.

another moment passing,
a second caught in relfection
of a moment
long covered in time's dust.
is it my duty
to reclaim
such jewels of time?
sweep the grey from its
faceted edge?

will i cut my finger
on the end,
and wish i had
yet again

this is a moment
in which walking
stirs blue dust
blurrs my eyes.