I float through time's trampoline, unseen,
simply happy to be
till death do us part
as tagged butterflies monitored on their way south
battling the fatigue of gravity
spread their dust over the tundra
what happens when the moon crashes?
as it is wont to do
when the butterflies don't pay the rent
there's nothing left to do but beg
for pesos on a donkey
...
A stack of bills blocks the morning sun
with its sum of harvested feelings
a ferris wheel against a cloudy sky
an icon of perfection rules extreme
everybody wants to leave
alone
where it belongs, in a cedar chest
mothballs instead of mints
folded in four, monogrammed, some gold
sprinkled into the fiber
as red cells in my veins
...
In your grannie's lumber room
gossamer threads stored
against the day we need wings again
to toss bottles into the sea instead of beer beggin
...
Like evening falling, still
I listen but the refrain escapes me
maybe you've stopped singing
Or maybe I really don't want to hear
Your tender sweet lament

and -- atlas.csd.net/~cantelow/cgi-bin/poem_view.pl/pub/971/0/1
there. ten years :) do you feel older? (you have to add the http, apparently it's a guard against spam attacks.) --k
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I ain't getting older...simply getting colder ;-) M (10 years already...longer than most marriages...probably because we never really met. M
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yeah, I forget that sometimes... (that we've never met, I mean) --k
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it's been a spirit to spirit connection...as well as a pioneer endeavor...let's see how long it can last -M

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very good - revealing - deep - a dash of truth? j.j.