Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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The dust of these years, swept ash
powdery residue, minuscule particles
mixed, spread as black ink, forming letters
into sense, emotion, concept and meaning
carried in sound, patterns of seas of memory
that imprint thousands of pages
with the weight of ages, poems, speaking
from recent antiquity, a fail voice echoing
from a void, empty space, apparent thought
probable utterings from behind some veil
burned beyond time, a reunion of ancestors calming
the anxiety of influence, preserving confluence of
a past into literal followings of words
as they describe a destiny, finally filed away
in a neat pile, as though deposited in a decorative urn.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. . 4/18/2012