When we were not old nor young
we tracked and hunted,
it never occurred to us
‘for what’.
Disasters were counted victories,
failings our strength,
and being oblivious, we were happy,
we were both lemmings and foxes,
clouds climbing cliffs.
On the steps of our body temples
we lingered with temple flower girls
who sold us kisses for prayers
and it was good, and just a step below
the groundhog days of this hedgerow
living.
Now, we are the recorders
of our middle histories
sewing patches and scrapes
to create stalking-horse words
as if we had never been those,
the headlong and heedless,
when we were not
young nor old.
Sky scrapers posed a gauntlet across her neon waters....
Radioactive tides their evasive in stalking horse wavelengths
Walpurgis nights preordained pentagon knife; planchette's point
Blank modern day Pompeii ? Neptune's, man of war; crimson's rabbit.
Just A Note: 6\7\2014...."Hey Baby, You Know I Love You: Your A Precious Creation
....Far Beyound Racing And This, These Man Made Things....'Sweet Dreams Baby Boy.'"
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