two thousand miles of bundled
wire, buried or swaying
in wind-swept lines

filling locked boxes with yearning
talk, your voice a sonic

crow’s feet perching on
sentences spoken, now
and six hundred miles ago-

tin can wax string sun warm
d i s t a n c e
delivered to my ear


2 thoughts on “apart

  1. Amazing isn’t it…fascinating this thing called life with all its technical magic!

  2. SwirlGirl says:

    For me, it all feels pretty disjointed. But, when you hear the right voice, even from thousands of miles away, it’s still wonderful. šŸ™‚

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