Monday, April 9, 2012

Just In Time

I love this poem. I have no idea what I am trying to say.

Just In Time

It is so strangely
tangled, this life. I leap from
body to body
before the moment,
rising from the waters to
glide in the sun glint
air, riding the gale,
seeking your lithe running form,
your dappled gray lines.

March 28, 2010 12:25 AM

". . . reality is neither the subject nor the object of true art which creates its own special reality having nothing to do with the average "reality" perceived by the communal eye." - Vladimir Nabokov


  1. i'm not sure which i love more, the poem or your sweet and unguarded love of it.



The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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