PEARL 3 - PORES



Tonight is not the time for this kind of writing ... 

for the words of sunflowers exist not 

when dusk has lowered its veil -

there are too many dustballs in my brain 

and the mothballs are not working now - 

as the gypsies play havoc amongst the cotton gauze 

which has sealed shut my eyes  

and the small bites the moths are making in that gauze 

will not open the cloth up to the sun 

which shines behind them until all of the stars in the sky 

have twinkled all of their lightbeams 

over the grains the sandman has scattered before me 

and then pass their rays back up into the heavens 

as the tide shifts gears 

and the sand becomes moist with the onrushing tears 

which tickle the ducts of sleepless thoughts 

and the cells of grey matter 

beg for another chance to rejuvenate ...

so I shall pass the need to address this topic in depth

and go on to something whose subject matter 

comes much more trippingly 

to the tongue of my typing fingers  

for no matter what I try and write -

the dust in my brain has settled for the day 

and my pores are clogged ....   



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Copyright Christopher Wyndham Thomas 

[8:45pm Tuesday January 14th, 1997]



<<< Used with permission of author