As sand moves through the narrow passage of the glass,
I've moved beyond the morass of my impasse.
As the reality of the past
fades away from me,
and shoved into a misty emotional haze,
I've discovered a state
of being
that is always changing,
forcing discernable differentiations
from one moment to the next.

Old dirty grey snow
in a city's black outfit,
a familar charm that is only now
a distant trench slit.
I've fought in the bitter
and characteristic cold,
and lived through the inner
and outer war with a bag of stories to be held and told.

Closure is a contradictary term that regresses
the distance between the unitary 'us',
but gratifyingly slams shut the semi-undressed
wound created by the vulnerability between us.

As a proud soldier wading through water,
discovering slippery totemic rocks,
now I know of no other ways to be.
I am as happy as a fish,
dancing among the sensibility and sensuality.

Feb. 8, 9, 2000, PARC Office