Details |
Mathieu Hotte Poem
This is the city where
I found,
the fixity of
synthesis.
These are the streets
that pace,
fames the course
of imminence.
This is the city where
I lost,
the tangibility
of surface...
...This is the where
I am to be found,
and found to be
lost.
Copyright © Mathieu Hotte | Year Posted 2009
|
Details |
Mathieu Hotte Poem
It's a slow suspend of our
veering selves.
It's a slower scape from our
colliding wake.
This sequence of never worn
happening is happening
now, and full of
time to delve
under and over
and out.
These scenes of leaning
cities, leaning on our
will's of wit and
ready.
Unfolding and molding
a land to bare
a naked and sacred sense
of same, tangled with
a sense of
more to
wear.
We can decide to suspend
our veer and stay
here and
stray.
We can, but we'll miss our
bus.
Copyright © Mathieu Hotte | Year Posted 2009
|