Canto One

This is from life, I was there:
exploring secrets hidden behind shapes, colours and scents –
the smell of that philadelphus, god almighty!

In Canto One I lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky
A million cameras could not catch that flight
and the years that had poured into those moments.

A dreamed landscape borrowed in my mind’s eye –
a shadow of false azure on a window pane.

In Canto One I was wide awake hungry for listening
and needing to leap:
skipping like a child through a spring  garden of lime
Nabokov smiled from a distant gateway
where he met a gentle gardener.

Canto One:
something now exists which never existed before.

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