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5/8/2010 7:20:12 PM

Matt Caliri
Posts: 4

I was pulling strings of beads--

They were dancing!
I lumbered to a lull,
The lighted eyes raying me--I shot upwards!
A rebounding blue casket flash,

I slide onto wet wood as Wendell
Dropped salt spit from his brow,
Patting me tender,
Wendell lived aone,

With the many fresh faces rolling along the lawns,
Pattering and clopping against the silent realm of the wood,
Piercing my silvering sounds,
The pier from below provided shuttering glimpses of the Great Blue and White.

There was always a party with Wendell...
Woven in nature's disgonal rings, as they appear against the sun,
There is some irate lust for hman-human companionship,
Mad scientists run a-muck about the land,

All on differeing timetables, differeing desires,
Rarely allowin the opportunity to walk around their own body,
To view themselves as semi-self-constructed circuitry
With a thirst for air me.

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