Monday, August 3, 2009

what middle way?

Always leaping in reaction.

First chasing the sun,
Gamboling faun utopia,
Gods on the lawn
Verdant and nymph-filled
Pastoral and domestic bliss.
And a bright boy, blonde smile,
With a wholesome, sunny laugh.

Spun from Eden, whirling
Into dark shadows seeking
A pale night dweller,
A picture with
Edges singed by dark fires
Cool body to share
A moonlit altar

Always seeking a hand up
Out of the creeping suburban normality
That pulls like the muck that sucks off your boot.

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