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a bag of inconsequence

Posted by jan oskar hansen on November 23, 2011 at 4:45 AM

A Bag of Inconsequence

I remember tiny things picking up a burnt match

from a floor wondering who threw it there.

 

A May day in St. Malo, I saw an old man crying

streaks of tears down rumpled chin.

 

Shy bluebells lost amongst tall trees, yet they

made me think of prayer wheels in Tibet.

 

Glow of coal in the grate, it was early morning

and the road outside was frosty white.

 

A summer night up north I was waiting for night

it never came...and then it was morning.

 

In dead rabbits eyes I saw the warm August sky,

I, happy to alive, yet saddened.

 

When the Pacific Ocean was a mirror of eternity

And time ceased, yet lingered like a kiss.

 

Waving flags, military band and bloody parades,

I have long forgotten why and where.

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