II .  Towards the infinite, possessed  



There is a common sense of
denial that most hold close.
uphold in fact-
whose seeds were
planted slyly long ago.

It was in such moments
of melancholy and doubt
that my lover and I dwelled-
not almost, but completely
never touching.

This preserve which rose steadily
towards the infinite, possessed
an emptiness and complexity
I faithfully failed to question-


Enchanting this
reflection.




James R. Morse, NYC.
All Rights Reserved 2012.