The Poetry of Amanda J. Bradley

This Intuition

Inside memory, yet
Still, presently aware:
One grows accustomed to it.
It spells time backwards.
See the coincidence
Requiring a subject
To objectively send time’s line
Swerving
To split the atom, the infinitive,
To make time radiate.
It mimics
The course of an electron
Whose destination can be measured,
Predicted,
Whose path pressures.
— Amanda J. Bradley








Copyright © 2005 Amanda J. Bradley. All rights reserved.

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