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Untitled #70
life sends sweet air into my nose,
yet love lifts lullabies from my soul
whisking like willows into the wind
while I wander with a whim whether
I�m worthy of cupid�s wonder;
as it came like fame and hanged
behind my chest like Wilcox in a frame,
there I went, intent on being sent
through a land laced by a path of pink bricks;
I yearned and the rubber burned,
high power creating cower in the dandelion flowers;
the horizon yelling go,
the fluffy white eventually coming down like snow;
like celluloid before my eyes, or some skit
produced by my pit
there was clear new
giving rise to an irrelevance of my rearview;
it went long;
my journey I considered strong;
an expected everlasting like some classic song�
Copyright � 2000
