THE NOWHERE & EVERYWHERE OF IT ALL

Without a second glance
I step into the book.

I have Great Expectations.

Just pop in to be Pip
yet again.

I hide in the full stop
at a page's end.

Nip in between
the space between

word & word.

My mother's voice
seeks me out.

I leave just as Miss Havisham  goes
wooooosh!!!!

Or I step surreptitiously
into a Jack B. Yeats

becoming pigment
becoming paint.

Here being blue.
Now being red.

Thinking thick impasto thoughts.

Shape shifting from horse
to rider to sea.

There is nothing
I can not be.

"Dónall...Dónall...where...have you been!"

"Nowhere..!" I say

( and sotto sotto voce )

"...everywhere....everywhere..."