f r i e n d
t o m w r i g h t
I don’t know how to write but
I would like to say
I don’t know how.
As sunlight on a fix
enchanted by curtain holes
in a worn out villa,
I am a coyote roaming
in an hourglass called world -
you are the sand. I desire dust
Let my transience not disturb you-
It has left you behind to ponder
By this gate art thou measured.
© copyright 2004, tom wright, all rights