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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required My world spins round too fast most times from Greek deep roots on Black Sea ports to cross Jordan's River on Catherine's Great trains meet sailboats greeting sea planes flying off to sports unknown throughout my Lake Odessa Highway. Where Ottomans blend Spanish matadors, heroes for my day and night bleeds forth a calvary of force to please titillating whims of Lake Odessa's middle class czarinas. I can't go home again to places never born. My mind can roam and try to swim and fly to where and what and whom and why we might have been if we had built a fine fair fortress for peace that loves to rock and sing sad songs of what sights have been in Lake Odessa. Instead of gangs and clicky clacks we learn polycultured quacks to flap and honk like Canadian geese, to transubstand she ate where America begins to end through Lake Odessa's streets. I'm much too busy and self-important sleep deprived and programmed lose to lose to win our way back home again where Lake Odessa meets. The role of God as played by me writing comic operas only kids can see was what I loved most secretly in long lost Lake Odessa. We need a better god for now bringing peach tree jams immortality of love as wise reframes lost loves to live in jesting jars of honeyed sweet corns and thorns for testing streets tasting ancient Greeks on shores of Lake Odessa. We're coming back to save each other from what might have been without sly rudders, tipping post from wu wei mothers to rebuild our crystal castle love of forms that buzz with life and tours that sag with history spinning sprays of licks and waves lapping soft and sandy on long gone skies of sanguine Lake Odessa.
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