The more I write
the more is lost
in these white spaces
a shift from this sky
to my pen
and energy is funnelled here
stolen from the moment
recorded images capture holograms
of the real thing
and the only way to hold
onto something is not
to let go
but to never reach
to just let it rest
beyond these devices
and savour through the senses
these eyes that look
these lips taste
this familiar scent
this airy note
anything can be touched
without being felt
besides perhaps
that delicate skip
from heart
to ink
~ c.p.grisold
© 2004