Generation
Mother and Father…
At the Threshold of spring
Virtuous Snow melts.
Water, hastens a River round the Bend, coursing the Wildwood,
nurturing Bamboo and the White Pine,
Life… is Complete.The Pen
The pen Falls It strays It weeps It stumbles Waiting… Nothing. It forms Words? Notes? Death? Life? It strays A mark upon a perfect sheet of white It bleeds Constant Continuous It soothes It rises Back into the curve of the breast It lives
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
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