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.

There May Be Something to This Writing Thing After All

Is it strange that we living beingsSearch for meaning on silver screens?Or that we scan ink spots printed neatly on paperTo find the truth of our existence?Until I wrote these questions, I didn’t know.Now, my answer is no.Each one of us contains some piece of the truth.Small or large, dim or bright, quiet or deafeningThe …

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