Monday, October 29, 2007

Like the Blob . . .

. . . it looks to cover the planet,
penning every heart to read
or lose to rain+, uncaring.
This place of bloggetry,

next stage of poetry which
dried up in dust of culture,
become irrelevant in debauchery,
who call unto dance+,+ & destruction . . .+

"White bird in a golden cage" . . .+
"Hurry high, butterfly" . . .+, +

   --10/5/07

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