Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Poetic Interlude

Can is a term I used to use,
when days were round and nights were blue.
"This picture gives a thousand words,
when all I need is air" says the bird.
Have you got a piece of distance
for this one disarming instance?
As a Rapid engaging of the aging witness,
while he remains blind to the raging wildness
"It is music" says the rainbow, to the wind in my ears,
"It is calming" says the heart of such meaningful tears.
And it still just blows right on by,
it is as still, as the memory
of the sound between the years.

Chief ME
(in charge of being myself)

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