Poetry by David Filer

Dedicated to The Imani Project

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Every old thing is with me...

Reginald Gibbons, "The Voice of Someone Else"


Every old thing is with me, when I let

The evening in, with all its histories.

Venus just now an hour from her set,

Bright above hills and fog.  Wind skims the trees,

Hissing as if static, and then signals

Coming from somewhere, crossing the space

Imagination frames, pulses sweet and full,

Like memories I know I should not waste.

Where are you now, what have you learned,

That you're here in this unfamiliar place?

I'm looking west, to a sky growing dark

And cold, all but the planet's lamp-like trace.

Somehow your faded voice has touched me here.

How distant love can be and still be near.


(published by Zyzzyva)

—David Filer