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patterns of ink

How fruitless to be ever thinking yet never embrace a thought... to have the power to believe and believe it's all for naught. I, too, have reckoned time and truth (content to wonder if not think) in metaphors and meaning and endless patterns of ink. Perhaps a few may find their way to the world where others live, sharing not just thoughts I've gathered but those I wish to give. Tom Kapanka

Friday, June 23, 2006

Crop Circles

What if writing
of the kind I do
is but a form of madness,
senility not yet curbed

by an arthritic hand?
What if being lost in thought
is merely
wandering in a maze
of corn or waist-high rye

until all my
sterile stomping there
in search of sky or light or just
a path to where I am...
shows only where I've trod

in patterns
that do not mean
a thing to man…
and little more when seen
by birds...and God?

.© Copyright 2006, TK, Patterns of Ink


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