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Where Time Goes
by Stephen Mead

Mother, we were given to each other
Through the possibilities of risk.
Think of blood, blue in the veins:
One cut & red runs...

I've sprung from you equally so,
An earth transfusion...

Here we live, stuck in our calendars.
Touch edges.  Penetrate everything.
Fingers linger, share solitude.
Shreds let it go.

Mother, your eyes now materialize.
Their gaze is cast elsewhere.
The sensation's the same
When I pick up a book, drift over
Print, realize what's living...

Begin with the creator, next
The origins dug up & scrawled.
It's a business.

There's pure spirit at the start.
Individuals take form, give birth.
This is the revving of vast revolution,
Involvement inimitable.

We heal that incisively.
Imbedded vestiges stay, become
Seams, frayed edges re-sewn.
Needle-fed, we are stitches
Done up in love.

Above our eyes chart the passage
Of such durable fabric

(For Marie) 

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