Doing rhyme
     is doing time

You commit the crime
     they hang you out on the line

When all the crystaled dreams
     come crashing to the floor

When it's your turn to walk
     but there's no door

You tried and gave your all
     And the promises have just stalled

. . . I thought I'd call . . .
     and was put on hold . . .

Feeling my age , getting old
     realizing my mortality

Suwreel

The tale of the fat birds
Fire feathered in the dark woods
Asks the myth mountains
Snow drooping and year stained
The long magic of tears crystaled

Sing Cywril to Balour
Make the glad telling
Glow the Tenebrae's darkness
From the fen-mars to Dagash

The truth remains shuttered
The hard fists raise towers
The exhausted land prospers
Heavy with blood thirst

Sing Cywril, Sing, Sing

Gibbens, 68, 12

A stone unravels its stress
and crushes into a ball
a moon bloomed full.
her crystaled waves
each shimmer beneath

like a child's fingers stirring
a minnow pond
scales weighing the light
reflect droplets off his arm

ripples from a silent
music box
pictures bleached
into waves