Wednesday, September 29, 2010


tongue twists, head in other direction.
on slaughts the panic avalanche,
pebbles can no longer hope to stand firm.

light rays in murky wood between heavy growth,
bestowing accidents of nature
with temporary divinity.

there lies the severed corpse so mossy green.
home to insects and small ambition,
head underwater, ambition lost.

giants arrive in their own time, to see.
bodies propelled by greater direction,
every cell a member of vast consortiums.

sentience bestows the fallen with ceremony.

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