I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Monday, September 14, 2009

I'm writing, I'm writing, I'm... ooo, sparkly.

I'm trying to write Chapter 25, things are getting tense, and out pops poetry. So we must write it out.

Season Dance

Humidity rises with
the waxing Harvest Moon
late in the season
for swimming-pool weather.
Pumpkin-fairy dreams
dance wakeful thoughts.
Longful frost on the verges
fringe winter's desire.
A change of sun
in the deepening sky
braids ribbons on the pole
of nightblue.
Come shining dark
for the candles to relight
the world.
Down the ages singing
our voices echo our
ancestor's. The
raucous universe
demands the wheel
we spin upon.

No comments: