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The Impossible Machine
RAINY IMPRESSIONS, a poem
Beyond the everness
beyond the frothy cloud
the eyes speaking directly
to a veil of rain
the vision snaking
through the pitter-patter
life is no insistent dream.

The hand may touch
the droplets in its hand
the mouth may mouth its braille
the eyes may shut to clouded light
but the vision is no more real.

I take a step upon the path
dithered by droplets
beside the guttering drain
and if I lived a day too long
I'd learn to live again.

The ghosts of garden trees
drink in the tiptoe water
stumps and gnarled bows
dark with sap breathe sour.

I may not live in a cloud
but the cloud is my impression
the city and its mists
find me, or I am lost.
BACK TO POETRY MAIN
by Eucaleh Terrapin