| A Handful of Bullets this is what i see you poring over the handful of bullets that desire entry to your ready gun emanating shadows white turns to black black to white pulsating rage a hiss in a bullet red red hate flaming pocked moon death imploding a solitary shard holds planetary tears in reflection drifting to ocean's floor and here it settles into the ancient sediment i spend my time now diving searching trying to piece together mirrors currents ever wash over our wounds and oh yes don't we clutch them ever so tightly shalome � 2004 |