"The time does not know itself."
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
A quick list to poets featured in this issue:
Determinism
If I knew anything
about birds I could tell you
they are mating out of season,
they are lovebirds and the one,
the one under the other one,
doesn’t mind. But all we can do
is watch them, just as mindlessly,
because we have been as intimate.
The draw and pull of action. It’s what
catches us. My love.
Every muscle struggles to find
its definite place. You,
standing next to the orange tree,
the summer sun beating everything
into the same motionless blur.
We come so we can rest.
We work for what we mean
with only our bodies.
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