- Vol. 03
- Chapter 09
The future tense sounds careless
when we speak of tomorrow
as something more real than fog
or a glass wall today runs into
when we least expect it.
Blindfellen, we search
as if we can construct what will
as we deconstructed yesterday’s
bits of dead-end beams and corners
we never did look around.
The future is an unchanging ocean
with a wild surf if we dream it
while the mate in our bed
rides a slack tide.
The future channels no wake
before the boat, offers
no certainties of sky,
is what we look to
when this is not enough,
uncertain where the horizon lies.