Swifts Poem by Dan Chiasson

Swifts



Reality isn't one point in space.
It isn't one moment in time—
look at time, a spool of twine
one minute, idle in a sewing kit,
the next minute a shooting star.
Reality is an average of moods,
strike that, a flock of birds,
strike that, a single bird
tracked through dense forest:
you can lose it for hours or days,
but it isn't lost. You tired of the metaphor.

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Dan Chiasson

Dan Chiasson

Vermont / United States
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