Saturday, November 5, 2016

this morning on the swing

Spiritual significance clung like a cloying stench,
Daylight to Nimbus to daylight
What then?
Beauty revealed in a burn heap
What then?
Sirens signaling the signal can yet be signaled
What then?
Cosmic Tragedy takes a back seat
The sun shines, the dog sniffs about,
Leaves crumble under feet.
Is it any less real since the fire came from a bottle?
Functionally it is the same.

As authentic as my meat computer can get… 

shadow stache

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