Sometimes I see the strangest images:
A love with long brown hair I never met,
Running towards me through the unknown trees,
Assuring me I’d never be upset.
Alternatively, I’m struggling to get
Past haunted holy rocks, although I freeze,
Imagining the all-seeing secret
Spirits who may kill or just cause unease.
Though I’ve not lived these lives, these memories
Belonged to others from former ages:
Transmitted, or only owing a debt
To my imagination; one of these.
I love these trips outside my own cages
Into some other joy, other regret.
Thur 14 June 2007
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