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You gleaming like water evaporated by cause,
I blew the chalk dust from my hands,
Late on his deed it was done,
It became another clown prince dream,
For us time was a myth.

Under the street lights at night,
The fine arc of the distant moon mirrors my empty hands,
Hands that bled at the mention of your name,
The stars dazzle topaz memories of our youth,
I search the night sky longing for you.

To hear rainfall and jazz together,
Such fervent opinions of music,
An unanswered telephone rings in the distance,
Leaving behind traces of brilliance.



Poetry writer and lover.

3 thoughts to “Abeyance”

  1. Lovely, Jason. ‘The fine arc of the distant moon mirrors my empty hands,’ is a line only you can write, it’s an awesome image (so I read it) of the emptied out scoop of a new moon, and empty hands…and those hands that ‘bled at the mention of your name’…It has the narrator’s heart written all through it. Don’t worry abou t John, me or anyone else is doing, you go off toward your own mountains and keep sending back reports…

  2. Thanks John I’m not sure if it meets up to the imagery too much unlike your current writing at the moment full of absolute imagery I compare your take on par with Peters works you guys have real talent thanks for bearing your works here on the site

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