dead drunk dublin and other imaginal spaces
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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
beautiful things
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 reserved


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