the swirls of
irreversible
makes me glow with a certain swoop
of indescribable panache.

the growing
sunflowers
across the dust-risen
gravel road
fail to grow towards the sun,
they keep turning south for the winter
and I can't blame them.

i'm stuck at the piano
churning out melodies
not for some artistic exploration
but because i can:
the systematic keys of A through G
resonate in my head,
so that pressing any key
just simply works for me.
It sounds good,
but I'm not really trying too hard, understand? That's writing, too. Words just come out because I know how a sentence works.

02/19/2008

Posted on 02/19/2008
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