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What dark degrading discipline
do you ponder for me now?
Perhaps an exercise in learning,
as if experience had somehow left me lacking?
Gone are all the wingless angels...
i pin no single hope on anything
except a good night's sleep
where i am free to dream
and wake at my own choosing
my spirit aches
like Easter's sugared teeth
from the kind of life...
i've all but led it through
and
today i lean a bit toward sorrow
but tomorrow i may suffer no compassion nor
even half a compromise
i'm much too tired now
and possibly twice as vague
to play this far-side fetch
where i am thrown by nameless faceless things
and then expected to retrieve myself
in honor of the act
spinning, twirling, whirling

comes the sudden step...
crisis calls my name
like a sudden friend
will i respond accordingly?

Last Updated: 1-13-05