Amelia Nicol
LibraryPoem
Dust gathered in mind, in air
in these rime particles that could
branch to another vaporized stillness
but, never muddied the rain
Distances between guessing
these portions of daylight spread out
in tiny prisms of dimension
just dust, it's just dust
Dirt road grit, hardening paths
of difference and defense
portions of decision broken apart in daylight
light form source-less-ness or within or from this
bright sun so close, thin air escapes
the needed negativity of eclectic exchange
and the limits of possibility in data
Change, chance, discontentment
Chrysanthemums by the roadside
the same diversions, these pasts
these posts, these ghost
Towns, contentment and quiet
No trouble, out here, no trouble
These places are for the pristine...
