Sunday, June 29, 2008

A Pallor of the Soul

Sing joy harmonic
As worms draw near.
Shallow wells sustain
Both cloudbursts and apathy.

Imagine the brush chosen to
Color your birthday canvas,
As Boomer heat-vision
Sears the new unknowns.

The smothering DNA sacks
Meander across the universe,
Gray stars bereft of twinkle,
Gaze barrenly, like trees in November.

Stay inside, watch reruns, and
Listen for air traffic while
Indian boys haunt parking lots,

Playing ball way past dark
(with the heads
of metrosexuals)

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