Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Mary Jane



The air is soft
it parts the ways
as I drift content
through a chemical haze.
Flowers bloom
and birds fly higher
as jugglers dance
on the high wire.
Beneath me now
the planets turn
the people walk 
the oceans churn.
And me, in my journey
of primordial bliss
seek to traipse over
the moments I miss.
The taking of life
as the stopped clock winds down
marching onward towards silence
and the earthworm's crown.
And still now, I dwell here, 
beneath purple skies
and hide from the hunger
behind my disguise.

Author Notes


World Bank:: disguise, wire, chemical, bloom

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