Far to the East (October 1997)

soft sounds sift
over the body
sounds so round
they sink
and stroke my back
stealing time
of wonder
and giving it to my dreams.

the telephone ring
is sweet
it sounds
so soft
and places me at my home
where i wonder if i can belong
so many nights have i lay in a place that is my home
but have cried out
ached for
my home.

thinking that maybe
it is somewhere inside
deep and far off
unable to reach
only with a pin can i touch it.

for i do believe that it must
live in primeval stone
far to the east
of my spirit
hidden in stars
and masses of black –
only witnessing
mutinies, metamorphosis
of love and pain
and placing words in my mouth,
to give to my world.

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