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

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Story Bone

"The moon got herself caught in the naked branches of a young maple tree this morning. She was moving across the northern sky, and was only partially full, so she couldn’t see where she was going when the tree stretched up in the night and snared her in his bare branches.

"He was just yawning and waking up from the warm weather when he found the moon caught in his arms. She was coppery and round, warm and brilliant, so he didn’t want to let her go."

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