Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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I search stretches of sand between syllables
tapping to hear the echo from uninhabited spaces
places to store my future poems, six decades
of dispersed light, crystal prism, radio of my epic
vacant honeycombs, hexagonal prison of
advance temporality, hollow as time ticks back
old voices in repetition reflect, rhyme beyond advent
duration of metric, drawn and flung, lyric lives
measured and sung, faces parallel and intersecting
now flash, luminous green, below damp boughs
of an almond tree, in singular cadence with
the sparkling sequence, of, the seething sea.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. 3/4/2012