© Rivenrod 2011


  1. I can imagine a soldier at stand to, thinking that: gazing over the parapet, past the barbed wire, beneath the guns surely poised on him. If he could run over No Man’s Land without fear of the gaping endlessness, he would.


    1. All of time captured in the palm of his hand for a single beat of the almighty clock.

      The image of time as an army of souls marching relentlessly onwards overpowers if thought about for long enough. Is time a mass? A mass of time constructed of fragments and snippets, iotas and atoms buffeting around plains of space in random formations. We watch ants, armies, rioters, refugees fleeing genocide, the drift of creatures in the oceans and it is possible to extract patterns on all levels from the physical to the metaphysical even to a higher being. Everything can mean everything different to everyone else.

      Thank you for the insight into your imagination.



  2. I can tell this blog is a place where I need to come with no outside schedules, so I can wander through at a slow pace, and curl up with the poetry. Glad my other ‘blog friends’ nudged me this way.


  3. The sharp crisp lines of the writing, like a ripped newspaper.
    I love the big dreamy middle section, soft oblivion.
    then the shocking red soldier…suggesting so many different things.
    the red in the writing, red of the soldier, soft grays up and down,
    like a mirror.
    very postmodern.
    if you could fold oblivion down its middle.


    1. Thanks Evelyn.

      If oblivion could be folded down the middle I guess we would meet ourselves coming back from somewhere we had never been in the first place. Just a thought.



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