Now

Now the waters close.

In the shiny air
above the troubled gloom
where the wanderer runs
among a fooldom of songs,
where my youth belongs
and my childhood flows,
above, in the splitsecond air
light from many suns
lights an instant there
jangling sharp and bare –
bursts invisible rocks
in glass diagonals –
and so the present mocks
in freedom from the past
the ignorant dull past
moving slowly past
in tiny molecules
that are lost in waves,
locked up in the waves

Now the past goes

Free of the hidden waves
I have come to this room
cleared of the sea, to where
lucky with light, a room
has colours a blind man craves
woven on a loom
by a ready current of air
by the now summer air
I have come to this room
of work and of repose

Now the past goes

Now the waters close.