Blooming pearls
in a forgotten face,
like a straw dog
crouching over a lake.

Were they blue pearls?
No, they couldn't be.
No, they couldn't be
apart from any lake.

Where the way your twang
sounds like the voice
in everyone else's head--
that's the place.

As much as I am here,
here as much as I am,
you are there and here and I,
and I am here and there and you.

08/19/2008

Posted on 08/19/2008
Copyright © 2025 Ryan Nardi