Center of the World

Lines of sand, threaded dust
Tangled where roots sink
Deeper and deeper,
The world upon itself.

Lines, filled upon landscape,
Light, net upon light;
All on vague seedy dreams:
Paris, Florence, Athens, Rome.

We’ll find ourselves again,
Falling, falling on this
Threadless sea, loose
Dreams bobbing down, back-
Again, up and running.

Twilight

A book that fell in love
With itself, dreams of reality
And it's own stolen lessons,

Undone pillars of reason, cold veins
Sculpt its bare-thread path
Where no one dared to cross.

It was not believing,
More like carrying a wind
To see it through a familiar place.