Saturday, September 25, 2010

past midnight

pages curling in rage, dusting out
cosmic meltdown
nothing to see here
buildings immolate, self-absorbing
rings of posies like rainbows threaten
the skies, the sickening, cloying
"cancelled the series; i'm at loose ends
hanging around
can't seem to find my
happy medium crone
seller of mystery that all is unfolding
perfectly."  Beached, white as foam
winded, wound down,  not on the clock.
The black-eyed honeyed one
hear her laughter
sinking in the sunlight
tsunami wide

No comments:

Post a Comment