a few precious words
are released unprotected
into the maelstrom
living on their wits
and the genius to melt
into an image
the mind’s eye trick
to trace pattern myth and ghosts
in the never-there
when we caress them
our crass manipulation
falls so often short
yet there they remain
imperious and perfect
our slaves and masters
Five stanzas, each one a haiku.
Ian Gouge - Writer 