Singing sweetly of succulent springtime, her stimulated synapses firing on all fours, finding her way underneath the moist moss into the finest of fragrances forgetting herself becoming something everything nothing losing finding grasping releasing giving eclipsing and he slid out the song on the unsuspecting, stealing their innocence, unsuppressing everyone with entreating, enticing undulations, rousing and releasing submerged but soon to be skyscraping cities of desire to the surface, lost longings left in lethargic limbo return to raise up the randy banners and raze down ragged hovels wherein reside once forlorn populations of forgotten dwellers, now free to build on beauty, not creating castles in the sand, but boldly, in the rarified air, towering tremendously, piercing the firmaments, driving the bloody buzzards and cackling crows away, leaving the crystal blue clear except for icecream clouds
© 1999-2000 Thomas Coleman
Visits since Jan. 1, 2000:
