
Few are Left Who Believe
I was living around the corner [from]
a mythic world that existed at the beginning of time,
a single vast mirror gazing.
A time when many
had been working on the problem
of voice and gestures
aiming at the startling and revelatory.
The known voices died away [in]
[the] sounds of shadows that possess no future;
a quiet residential neighborhood
not far from the sea
full of sky.
The oldest come first to the ruins
to die in an old chateau
who had lived on from another time
and who had seen so many things.
When you look back there is always the past;
the dark passage they had no name for
included the work of contemporary poets
my brethren in the dream
Just sitting on the steps
And nobody knows them.
Few are left who believe.
From various sources starting from the blog: Poems and Poetics