Guest guest Posted April 21, 2006 Report Share Posted April 21, 2006 Reality arcs, bends twists returns to ciphers and zeds Imagination runs to a playground, slides down infinite patterns and swings on mutated stars It's a Mexican Hat Dance Verisimilitude bites tangibility A cockroach scurries to the Light on a rat's ass, clenching slivers of palm fronds Ordained and initiated in the sounds of Night, croaking frogs answer. ;-) Conscience Conscience is a science of inaccurate pronostications conditioning the ineffable relegated to wanton misrepresentation and assignment preached to the choir of who owns God's Little Acre and how IS the weather up there in your outlandish but substantial rehearsal of alignment by consignment and realignment by wishing upon a star, and how I would have been if I had been born under the circumstantial evidence called " You " . The best and only investment and testament caught in the act of incarnation... Who knew? ;-) Empty Frame Between the parted pages of memory I place Beloved You, a thumbprint on my heart, next to the picture of how it might have been if only we loved enough and stayed the course of water... ;-) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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