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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3399 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Last Glance Carole Barley (Vienna) The man who could see farther than forever has become the figurehead of a small lateen. Afric sun glitters in a tryst of waves, throws bright mosaics, intangible as memory. The man who took the wind for his comb and shells for runes waits for gull feathers. Waits for the tantric night, hears every footfall of cats who hold court in palm gardens. The man who could touch in a thousand languages Looks northwards, beyond the crateryawn of Bayuyo to where waves curl to shore in fibonacci sets. It will rain tomorrow, in the afternoon. Here is energy frozen, passion muted to two dimensions. Colours will fade and gloss crack under years with the very sun that fired his heart to dance. Still that uptilted chin, the defiant vivaceousness. I once traced the shape of his lips with my fingers. The dip, the bow; warmdark words fell from them into my palm. He taught me to weave sails from dreams, keep keen eye on the tides, for when the currents would be with us. |
