STANCES WITHOUT SCENE
nature encircles the seen
linear forms evolve
structure turns to stone
all is ossified
fast-frozen in the nowthere are no alignments
we all go without
these needs are ever present
not omniscient
yet nagging still the samesuch trace the borders
of the realms of being
carving the latitudes
that we can not reshape
once etched upon the globesystems degrade and fail
intent grows distant, fades
pulses do not reach
their targets in the planes
devolving now to pointsour doubt grows greater yet
our fear the chop on seas
spraying bits of dread
upon the face and heart
when seeking for a shorenever rises the dream realm
the crystal zone
the place delivered pure
too much rot taints this space
and pulls down to the mireanother cycle turns here
so many wheels in spin
that no pattern sings to mind
no grid opens the door
to clear perception's gazeall these far aways
can not remove the curse
the mass of ages' building
which can only once be broke
within the chaos line
- Brendan Tripp
Copyright © 1994
