oh Life
the things you’ve stolen
just keep ’em
they weren’t really mine
just borrowed to the last
my tendency to think of things as permanent when they are not?
it’s all just so much amplitude
that ebbs and flows with time
and every night the shadows and the ghosts
and bits of every fear that ever struck me in the face
come round my way to see if they
might still have power here
but every day the dream comes back that
Life, you like to tease me with
and what is felt and known
is true and real
although provisional
for what is here, is here;
and what was here,
is here
as well
