Every name’s a tiny anchor.
All of your words are grappling hooks.
Each memory’s a Gulliver,
A chalk outline in Lilliput.
Each episodic anecdote
Stays cinched by storytelling ropes,
And however much of your life
You recall hangs on hooks of quotes.
There’s more to being than talking,
If not more to life than desire.
But what you’ve kept of what you've lived
Lies tangled in language’s wires.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.