Artist of the day: Jeff Buckley
Geometry class taught me the meaning of a line
Declaring it as a collection of points extending infinitely
On opposite directions. One point followed by another,
Connecting. And I speculate on relation, points struggling
To connect, saying my hand is stretched across waiting
For you to come, and hold it. An ardent point A, relating
To a fading point B, meaning extension. To give
Part of the self to another. At night, I dream of lines,
The kinds that make up the four chambers of the heart
And what lies in each of them, how they set themselves apart
Drawing lines to distinguish their insides from the exterior.
Outside, a train pulses to its arrival; a child rides for the first time,
A man forgets patience, and a faraway place is near again.
I define lines simply as something that exists in everything
I see. Is this what holds the world together? The margins
Of this city, finding necessary slits and openings, blue horizons,
The lines on our palms, the trail our footsteps leave.