Thursday, August 4, 2011

To live alone in fantasy
creating reality as you dream,
the beautiful pageantry of untruth, truth.

Bring along a friend or two
you can name them
tell them what to do
they look and smell like violets.

So sweet the world created here
perfect arms, perfect hair-
perfect madness, the only way
I suspect.

Until the bees stop making honey
a bird will always fly by.
A Cardinal, Mockingbird, Barn Swallow,
Dove

A pair that sit atop an electric wire
diving through air at their command
with a twig, always flying and
coming back until,
Boom.

What happens when the mate is
dead-the coo of the sweet
gray feather-thread,
he sits atop and watches.

Black beady little eye
watching the world go round and bye
watching a scheduled train
Blow.

And what of silence
messing with God's realm
discovers it has control,
will ethics keep us safe

harbor us within it's grace
steer a plane, a boat, a mind-
doing with life what it finds
amusing.

oh computer, robot, friend
or foe, keeping distance-
put on a show, oh

The clouds move by in the wind
and rain, does the jet stream have
a name-other than reality, hence forth.

Imagination of possibility
everything yet not
anything in Quantum Space
A Dream.

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