02 January 2009

Poem for a Winter Solstice/New Year

This was written and sent around by an old friend, the poet and writer Frank Walsh:


Bits and pieces

Fashioned, compressed

Compound that

Fantasy past

Meantime, imaginations

Drift against us

From the great outdoors

someway as if from

nothing further than

the Truth than Beauty

limits alone

By which we might

Recreate ourselves

One after an other.


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