Steve Timm
2 Poems
fossil

I donít know if the
stars talk they
donít to
me at least but I
feel
something if I look
in a good
frame
of mind at the
smear of them.
Up there.  Well
itís wow if thereís
learning the
parsecs & all & damn
if they talk how
cold they possibly fore
see if what we
see is so goddamn
how I feel this
clouded night like
a president
old.  Up there
where we would
if we could
go so much was
said & who
knows what rage
nowís burning.
What lossíll
be gained.




so

It is a dream to begin
a work it never
ends & it never ends.  A con
jugation of be a bridge
that stops out there & the holy ones
paused pawing so not
real
ly paused but halting but no not
halted blindmen on a
prankís plank a foot shuffling
a cloud passing by the hands held
out
ward wards of the certain uncertainty
that nothing is it
remains or beckons
where the dream falters too
like a poem & a rhythm grows out of the splay
of fingers the sweepfoot rustle
of rain cusp mad god mad sweeteneder
& no than.

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