The White Deer
It’s even closer than our fingertips what we’re longing for and travel for in search of closer than our jugular Shangri La lie…
A singular shadow stood on a road
and scratched its shadow head
wondering which road to go down
toward what shadowy goal
He tried to call out
but his voice was merely an echo
“If I could only be more substantial”
he thought to himself yet as the day waned
he became less so
He was shocked to see himself become
even more vague and indistinguishable
Some things like the imprint of tree branches as the
sun filtered down seemed to have
equal weight and some things like rocks
had more so
Yet he wasn’t without life
certain things made him tremble slightly
though other things like the wind
didn’t affect him at all
Where was he to go that was
different from where he came from?
And where was he now?
The road grew darker as the night came on
and he watched himself become
nothing at all
and the night become everything
7/15/2006 (from In the Realm of Neither)
Categories: Poems