Book Thirty-seven



There are the poems
built with common words
built like the bricks that
make a mason delight
in the wet thut of stone
set upon mortar, the delight
of he that buildeth the house

and if one day I found you
living inside, I would call
upon you to abandon the
weather of thatch and window

There are secrets in travel, I say
there are night-trains which
must be boarded in darkness,
an ocean for every form of loss

There is a thief who encircles you
desirous and cunning
he will take all your gentle graces
and set them down before you
like common words.

Here is a list of books.

Tim McLaughlin

Photographer and writer based in Vancouver, Canada