There Is Always A Then

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Thoughts are objects

And they are bound within

A fiction of our infinite pages.

Leafs so thin,

That we fit them

Within forever

With careful words.

The parchment is made

Of flesh and leaves.

We press flowers within our covers

Endless, every so often, an influence.

Readers who cannot stop,

Addicted to page turning find

Characters caught in the act

Of dying

Heroes making eternal desire to themselves

Murderers, the best lovers

Lovers, the best murderers

Gods on mountains

Mountains who claim to be God

Words of control

Words of wishing, then

Children…………………………..

Waiting patiently, silently

In footnotes, then, then, then, then….

(There is always… a then.)

Little baby asterisks

Crying for literary attention

From larger print.

The print, always so damned quiet

Inside the Library of Babel

Busy, copying sheet after sheet

Hoping to snare a novel

Wrestle with a poem

Gargle with flash fiction

Enter into a serious relationship

With a creative non-fiction.

It’s a grapple with

Endless mimesis, a shape shifter,

Always on the move with forever,

Building bookshelves, planning

On how to end the epic..is, is, is, is

An object of thought

 

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25 Comments on “There Is Always A Then

  1. Your poetry always intrigues, inspires and captivates me. A real talent. Thank you.

    Like

  2. Hey Friend, Thought it was time to stop by again. Looks like your blog is as awesome, busy, and inspiring as always! (Changed my pic from the cow….was told by several people it was not in keeping with the “serious content you are capable of putting out.” Ha! 🙂 It was time.)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. between the margins are endless possibilities for walking the words and their dots and dashes – very interesting thoughts and thank you

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This is perfect. It’s messy and strange and exciting, and perfect. Words are most definitely your forte!

    Like

  5. I looked over a poem of yours Egan and I didn`t really look at the images that you posted with your poems the first two times because I was reading your poetry. I really like them. I like the picture of the couple together, they look so in love. The picture of the child living in the cardboard box is touching. This is actually a reality in Dublin the capital of Ireland. Black and white pictures do have a certain charm too. I`ll be coming back to your site frequently!

    Like

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