Traces of Life

At great distances lies the secret to vision without movement Waves crashing in stop-motion—the artist’s strokes slow, deliberate— Press a button and the whole film plays in seconds Millennia compressed to a bite-sized chunk That still manages to get stuck in the throat Though we didn’t need to breathe, anyway.

Light the Way

Flames pulled the inner lining of my threadbare jacket
The only cover on a soul washed raw 
A trickle of blood from an injury I never noticed
Washed by rain from my face upturned to the sky.

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