In Meditation

The extremities pass & we coax the truth
into repeating the lesson left on a vacant shore.

Outside has become the new inside,
as the handhelds take the mind away.

What has me here so still,
the one word to hold so long?

Not on a road of sentences
will it will me a greater silence.

The nest is laid to final rest.
All the above was left at the rest stop.

It is a script of absences.
There is a picture in the word you hold dear.

Keep it safe.

Published by William Cowan

I'm from the East Coast, have lived in SoCal and now Northern California for some years. I've been writing quite awhile, published in 1992 in a literary quarterly: "Suspicious Humanist," vol. 2, #2, (20 pages.) Best job: fm on air personality on a now defunct station, "Evening Eclectic" music show, and a weekly poetry reading show. I played jazz and free/improv I enjoyed. Read Wallace Stevens, John Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, etc. and commented on the poems. I have read once at a local coffee house. Love the Bay Area, wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I am going to appear in an east coast anthology of best new poets of 2010 by the end of the year, published in Pennsylvania. I'm reading once a month at a brewpub in Marin with a group of fellow poets. We read to each other our work, and personal favorite poems of authors we enjoy. It is a pleasure to share with a community of fellow enthusiasts.

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