I am proud to be reading at today’s
Festival in the company of such fine
Poets, skilled in lyric, meter and phrase.
Writing in the silence of our own gaze,
We pierce a universe of our design,
Ascending or descending through a maze
Of thoughts and words (if our remembrance stays
Around for future pasts). Parallel line
To diminishing point in distant haze
Is worth exploring, endlessly, heat rays
Wavy off the surface, seductive shine,
Oasis of plenty, dust the feet raise.
Reaching that phantom point, no one dismays
At finding nothing but another sign
To follow. I offer them heartfelt praise.
© 2004 Thomas A. Ekkens
This poem appears in our chapbook entitled Riprap.