The sprial down insanity of
the wind storm shook my foundations---
-----as the moon set
on a century of abuse, contemplating
time as if it were a teardrop in
history not willing to face what has
come and what is going to be seemingly caught
in an instant of concave maddness
and pear shaped dreams that
I am allergic to longing to use these feathers
to fly away to a reality that doesn't make my eyes water
with fear and saddness---
----where I can dream and wake up to find it
has been true all along....









August 20, 2007