Wide Space

Paul Kotschy

June 2005

Elephants are big and bulky.
They choose to muse.
But the foxes, they're standing there,
Next to the long sunset highways of my mind.
Howling, calling.
Out there where you don't go,
It's long and windy and desperate.
Out there do wide spaces conspire.

For to empty my electric circle
And feel thick red flowing auburn, going grey,
I'll be OK.
To put my power globe aside
For the sun and the smoke.
The clamour and the sensibility.
To stop shifting this way and that.
It's wide space. 1

1 I declare this to be my own work, entirely. In particular, no AI was used in any research, analysis, synthesis, writing, nor typesetting of this work. In short, AI was not recruited at any time in this work. Errors and inaccuracies are therefore proudly my own.

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