Saturday, January 22, 2005

Sand

Sand is not my world
I do not live on grains
But in the gaps, the crystal lattice.
Electrons cross my skies:
From them I read my fate
They must know more than I
They have, at least, got somewhere else to go.

Sand is not my world
I fall in space, dragged by random gravities
Not dead matter but flesh and blood
I am not sand, and sand
Is not my world.


Martin Locock, 1982

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