Time Travel

Eight and a half by eleven
from thirteen to nineteen
tried obvious examples
crumpling most efforts
throwing them across a hall
of half-life resurgences
hammering out from hollow
the opposite of absence.

Wingspan of chance
from a weighty distance
a decade of lightyears
a wire an underground
elevator with no doors
connected by essence
to your waiting eyes
through this buttonless
passageway I arrived.

A brush with greatness
I painted a painting
it was all about you
but you weren’t in it
all the garden colors
red gold stars and ochres
were burnt and brilliant
you backended your talent
for foregrounding my strokes.

The owner of a gallery
saw me in the stairwell
on the spot offered me
a show to show off my
theory of time travel
I replied no and then yes
effortlessly I put up and lit
my best love poems.

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
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