traumatic license

freely passing, the night goes on,
like a thought just out of reach
drifting past i wonder
what's tomorrow for?

no where to go but forward
i know that
but always where i've been
looks best (or rather, safest)

where is the line between have & have
not, and what determines the
line, who determines, what fixated
rule of time forces the outwardness
ever semi-apparent in the dreams
conjured by traumatic license from ever
widening ripples seen as affluent
derisivness aimed untowardly convergent.

copyright 1996 - jem moore