9 09 2012

You pour facts in my glass
Tell me to drink,
For health depends on it. However woozy I get,
These promises cannot change
The dream I suckle to
Like words mashed to pulp
In a backroom fantasy
Before silicon…
Third floor tenement insomnia
Delivered a library to eager eyes.

Does a comet stop
To admire the blue,
Changing its path in turn?
And turn…and turn
It continues beyond all attraction.
So must I in my own
Universe, follow the course
Laid out before I opened
My own eyes, and after.