sharded words, slicing as they go by
bring a nitrogen's weight, dressed
as helium-light, like an arrow soars.

(do you have to be so mean? sarcastic?
well, i've tried regular, imperative
English, that doesn't seem to work.)

leaving bloody feelings all around,
to be swept-up, tossed at the end.
a Sisyphean urban legend-vanishing.

we talk thinking we're Flaubert and
the world is Madame Bovary, Madam.
we make music so the stars can dance.

the world is Aldonza, not Dulcenia.
blinking off, on like a lonely firefly.
thinking we're Don Quixote, we move on.

mans' trust of fellow man: eroded
like a Gobi sandstorm on Bactrian backs
eyes, not faint of touch, strength.

09/29/2008

Posted on 09/29/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan