Heed half-attention
to these written words
and the breath it takes
to read my thoughts
Here in the present
at which you look
stay aware
of my conjoured tricks –
which we now see
in separate worlds
joined by my verse
and nothing else
No hardened borders
or long-haul flights –
so turn off the clock
to find more time
Then walk with me –
but not too fast
past Thoreau’s woods
to face what has passed
as it now collides
with the present
and our time is filed
as misplaced moments.