Saturday, August 22, 2009


Link to website update August 22, 2009


Showing hello, these stones wriggle their way
Around and under the years
Solitary wisdom sits and polishes each as
If it were some singular gem then
places it on the catapult of your heart
To let fly at dead animals and
measly, fearful flowers.

Otherwise, who lives here?
The better birds in the quiet smoke of the morning kitchen
They know how many of their brethren are departed
And they speak with reminded voices
And they speak of the wasted years
Much like lost treasure.

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