An uncertain combination
of numbers wires and fingers
brought your voice to mine
it found me lying with nomadic
echoes of my tongue
so we roamed through
the illogical backyards
in the night
chased by telephone poles
down laughing hallways
where the doors just swing and slam
with a click
I returned to another room
where a friend asked me
what was going on
I looked for him
through tangles of impossible kelp
sometimes there are no words to reach me
Note: I have about 30 folders of old poems dating back to 1969. I have been intending to go back and look at them, see if some would be worth posting here. A lot of the early ones almost certainly involved smoking something…. This poem, I think, dates back to 1970, first year university.