Desert
I’m hiding
in the back of my life, crouching
in a blurry transparence of passwords
and wrong places at the wrong times
- but freshly laid asphalt roads,
reworked from bottom up
to facilitate heavy military vehicles,
make road biking smooth, sweepy
and head windy
On the opposite side of Something
lies Nothing
I go where the compass points
I break out of the chains of irresistibility,
into the openness
of David Hinton’s DESERT,
generously allowed with empty spaces,
relief and white pages
sparsely ornate with distant words
and mountains; an eagle on the thermals,
but I remain an unidentified moment
in the void of eternity,
flowing in a sea of ancient breaths,
thirteen billion years old light tapping
on my consciousness,
patterns putting up resistance
in a denial travelled by Voyager I & II
Light shimmers on the ocean
The mountains wrinkle their crevasses,
and erode into sandy plains
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
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Written on 2024-09-06 at 12:17
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