Monday, November 30, 2009

We quake like stones at sunset
And shake like bones on their last parade
Everyone lifts up their voice
To lay you down below
Clouds of people letting go
Fist-crushed petals
Thoughts drifting to the earth
And memories to cover it up green.

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After a busy day when confronting admin

 We must all come  Find ourselves And we will all be found Regardless  As the sun finds the morning As breath finds the lungs As I am found ...