it is a time for living
a good night
to remember the
meteors i saw
this morning
and consider the spring
this autumn the most vile
slips over the edge
a horizon within itself
with backs turned
and tombs sealed
forever is a long time
and i dare the fates
visit me
as the worm moon comes
and i recall
shooting stars
This entry was posted on January 4, 2012 at 11:10 pm and is filed under Writing and Poetry with tags art, baseball, birthdays, cannibals, christianity, criminal activity, explosions, fire, gangster, god, harold camping, homecoming, jersey shore, liquor, love, love lost, miracles, music, pagan, parks, partical physics, patriotism, philosophy, poetry, red sox, religion, sweet memories, thug, trains, travel, USA, wildlife, wombats, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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