Friday, August 14, 2009

Wondering If I Still Can

Form of forgotten flavor
Dancing on the tip of my tongue
Basking in the richness
Creamy light drips from the sun
I wander wearily down the path
Adrift in open seize
Gripping all the twilight roses
Dancing in the breeze
And from the open window
Babbling in Babylon I go
Without a single meaning to
My rhetoric and my prose

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