"dialog" poems
a series of notes, prose-poems
stories, bits of play & dialog
Aphorisms, epigrams, essays
Poems? Sure
13.2k
The Date being November 8, 2016
Multitudes into the voting booth
Strides will be made in voting from our youth
Presidency and Senate all part of the race
The voting dialog will be an overwhelming pace
But the quest being, “Please All Vote”
This is not a joke
Our lives matter in this election
It requires all to vote being participation
Vote for whom ever you chose
But don’t get discouraged and just refuse
Don’t let anyone question you in why do you vote?
Just tell them you are exercising your rights being your own words being spoken
Don’t worry about being poked
America’s future becomes actions on tomorrow
The White House already has policies in place
But the new President and Senate can change and rearrange the space
Vote with all your heart
This election needs to make a strong mark
Vote for a President and Senate that offers hope
Let it be living and able to cope
Vote now and show Washington WOW.
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC
Are such narratives abrasive
Such as the condition of our racists
Like our cops who fear black faces
Perhaps you find such dialog tasteless
Would you rather read of love
Higher powers from above
Blinded souls that now can see
Angelic intervention when we bleed
Are you afraid to know
Or uncomfortable
Surely you must have a care
The establishment
Has taken the power
While we were unaware...
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 8:26 AM UTC
No matter how much my body resists it, the internal dialog never stops, cant destroy it. with my cigarettes, or junk food, or my bad attitude, can’t make extinct the thing that’s possessed me.
right in front of you
like a worn out tune of blues,
looking like leftover food, but not so tasty.
it’s a dream of mine, and in time i will learn what it takes to
make the seed grow.
never know? doubt kills like
pesticide,
insecticide,
boys at columbine.
with vicious and preconceived certainty.
no humanity or humility, only cruelty.
like the beast of nature, (pardon me)
nature of the beast.
the nature of the beast
will never cease. like the internal dialog, never stops. can’t destroy it with my cigarettes, or junk food, or my bad attitude. can’t make extinct the thing that resides inside of them, that’s possessed them.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 3:18 AM UTC
Fade to scene--pallet: blue and green--wide shot; mood: serene.
Establish view; a stock or few; pan right to view a distant two.
A hazy rim; we cut to HIM--so clean and prim--just as we hear the hymn...
A tear rolls down his chin. The brightness dims; music shifts to grim.
Cue the screams; cut the scene.
We're back in the now and the mood is mean.
HE'S back in a view--pallet: black and blue--the shot askew.
The mood's muted; sounds of shooting. Cue dialog:
"Look what you did..."
Camera jerks; extreme closeup: a smirk; let the ANTAGONIST work.
The wire crew's here. HERO sheds a tear. Signal stuntman on the tier.
Orchestra on my mark...
Deliver line then cut to dark.
Light's back to reality. The view won't change, you see.
There's no crew or doubles. Just a wide sea of troubles.
No second shots; no calling "CUT"; it's all open-shut.
It's not like a filmmaker's lens; it's not just pretend.
Let me script this out what you're all about:
An overconfident lout, but backlit with doubt.
All part of a cast, direct you like I did the last.
I see that you're furious, but you're hardly fast.
Now I'll produce the fear as the shoot draws near--
I've got the schedule set; we're not finished here!--
You're calling "cut," but I'm just cutting you more,
And then I'll edit you out on the cutting room floor.
I appreciate that you feel you've come so far,
But never forget this is MY movie, and I'm the STAR!
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
My mind could be saying all manner of things
when I read your messages;
the truth is,
my uncontained smile
betrays my thoughts
every time.
It has a dialog all its own.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
The detail dialog of phases slow
I want you to see how this situation flows
It was a co-worker to buy some ***** for dinner
My co-worker invited me to tag along, but I chose not to enter
Then later on I changed my mind and decided to go along
We went to the butcher to buy live *****
As I saw the ***** being touched, they were moving ready for a fight
I stated to the Butcher, ”This is going to be a Butcher and ***** in plight
As the butcher placed the ***** in the bag
The bag of ***** began to sag
The ***** were fighting as a bunch in the bag
One thing that is for sure, the story continues in not being a drag
Now we are on the New York City Subway system of the D-train home
One of the ***** tore open the bag and started to roam
A scream broke out from one rider seeing one of the *****
Because this was evening rush hour, many other riders were just plain mad
I told my co-worker there goes your dinner to eat
There was my cue to get off the train and retreat
My co-worker was able to eat ***** and appreciate
***** that went on a plate, and the co-worker who sat down and ate
This is what I experienced in search of *****
My adventure written on several pads
A story of my account saved on tabs.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
What are the words cooking?
The flavor you add
Telling the story your fab
Your words being the ingredient on the grill
The concept you set at will
The emotion captured being a thrill
Your words having a roast
The dialog that everyone will boost
Imagine your poetry being the cookbook known coast to coast
This is an outstanding achievement at most
It’s a feast illustrating in your own words
You heard!
Just bring your words and the reader will bring their ears
A chance to open the reader’s mind
Having a strategy all combined
Win the reader over
Your confidence the reader will discover
A discovery at the BBQ that everyone will be talking about
It won’t be a theory perhaps stuck in a bout
But it is words that can
Assurance that will
Yet confident still
Words grilled to perfection and just right
Having those very words that will crave the reader’s appetite.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
"BUG"
I saw a Bug Battle,
in the cracks of the street Blood and Struggle
Their plastic screams and cellophane curses were almost like yours and mine.
Until a brave one crawled to my ear,
and he told me of his trial in the street crack theater,
I grinned as if I cared, he smiled like he had the time
He said "in whose camp does your banner fly, and can I have you on my side?"
He loaded a Pistol while I replied:
I said: I'm anti-pro no shout catechist, so keep your pamphlets political activist,
You take your cause for lack of a purpose in life,
pursuit of happiness, "eudemonia" good spiritedness
you're living proof that ignorance aint bliss
Pray "Libira nos a malo!" and Free Tibet!
But you never prayed for the souls with affixed Bayonets;
so I wave like the man being shot from the cannon;
born on this chunk of warm rock hurling through nothing;
who only on the front of spirit can fight;
Storm the Bastille of desperate life;
and dance in the street every night till the day I die.
The Bug Replied:
Know All, Know all, in the dialog to win,
two grants are a Franklyn one Lincoln's just a fin?
Posit value for this bug since you're so well balanced,
gaining perspective from the outermost valence;
you never killed what you eat and confuse "labor with action,"
but you think you're to evolved to fight for my faction;
We're currency baby as we live and breed,
BASTILLE for you ATTICA for me!
better get in the frae my anti anti teacher
before it ***** you along with every other fighting creature;
I'm going back to me cell where I breathe a little freer;
but let me give a final though like I'm Jerry Springer:
If happiness is purpose than you can call my purpose love,
to survive I fight the Battle and to me you're the bug.
Thunderstruck, I sat on the curb,
realizing I could be a "social surd;"
then I saw my small confessor get killed in a raid;
I would have stomped out his assassin if I wasn't so afraid;
instead I rose to my feet, and walked straight home,
locked myself in, and wrote out this song,
I think of the bug while I'm dancing in the street,
every time my neighbor throughs a sneaker at me;
I feel his wrestles spirit longing to fight,
while I'm drinking and singing in the middle of the night,
than it hits me:
The bug was right
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
I would sit in a cave if, I could sit,
I would stand into the wind if, I could stand,
I would lie beside you if, I had you.
My logic is so, so pitiful,
I place expectation upon expectation upon demand,
My illogical answer is, I don't even know you.
If I could dance it would be for joy
If I could fly it would be into the sky so very high,
Then so low along the nap of the Earth.
See?
This how I try to impress thee,
For I am not joyful, therefore I cannot dance,
I am unable to fly so I don't stand a chance.
But these words, an intimate dialog, 'tween ye
And me, I take the time and chronologically
Realize already I am the one unhealthy...
Wait, don't go, let me start again, and when,
wait, why are you crying, I am unhealthy not dying,
I am unhealthy for us...
I will take you this one time to places where,
where are you going, how will we be together,
if you leave, I think your telling me I failed the test
That okay
that is alright,
I will wait till your
outasight
then move
onto my next
conquest.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
As intimidating as a blank page,
So much nothing its overwhelming
A mesh of every color created into
The lull of empty space.
So much change it’s the same
Melting into the realization.
Nothing is everything.
Just a mess of choices, mistakes.
A dialog of faces, of familiar places
Time is all there is, it doesn't exist.
It doesn't mean anything.
But the illusions addicting
And I’m high off of you.
In this life, images of your body
Split words of color from your mind.
Spending quality time on the beach in your eyes.
The vibration of your resounding energy
Slightly tickling every square inch of me
Feeling electricity while
your tenderly kissing
my essence and reassuring me
of my presence and my own existence.
Fitting closely against the love
You so boldly drove into me
Filling voids while bringing me
To the brink of happiness, joy, and ecstasy.
Convincing me that lapses in time
And relapse in my addiction to
The thought of the human paradox.
Of existing in constant contradiction
Are not completely lost and somehow create direction.
And I don’t feel lost in our created heaven
And I must exist and you’re my only real-
My only worthy recollection.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 4:13 AM UTC
Hers were the beautiful blue eyes and the black long hair,
She watched her blood dropp freezing to burn in the air.
Her pale lips were keeping the mark of her love's glow,
She wanted a child having the skin as white as the snow,
The hair as black as ebony and the lips as red as the blood.
That red on that white looked as beautiful as a flower bud.
She was sewing and watching the ebony of her window's frame.
An angel became visible in the air to tell her the child's name.
''Light up this love, my Lord, and give me this child of light
Unbearable is this pain of mine, light up my soul and my sight.''
Coming up the stairs, the king saw this and he told his queen,
'This white angel is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen! ''
The queen's heart used to be like a little book being unread,
But in front of her husband, it has become an open thread.
He tenderly kissed her, ''Your broken heart is no longer dead,
Because for Snow White on the snow your secret has bled.''
When she gave birth to her child, the sun rose to be so bright
And everything in the castle could be seen in the holy light,
But when the king came to see them, he heard only the sighs.
When he saw his dead queen, sad tears flooded his black eyes.
While he was living with his child being a lonely sad father,
The king thought to bring to little Snow White a new mother.
''Light up this life, my Lord, because I have only fears and sighs,
Change my fate, because I need a new morn in my sad eyes! ''
He married again, but the queen's heart was mercilessly beating.
She was like a dangerous snake and poisoned was her greeting.
Her sarcastic lips were always keeping the mark of her hatred,
Her powers were hidden, because for her the devil was sacred.
She kept her frozen air, although the snow was melting in Spring,
Her words could remain suspended in the air to freeze everything.
‘'Mirror, dear Mirror on the wall, who in this land is fairest of all?
‘'You, my queen, are fairest of all'', echoed the mirror in the hall.
The Snow White grew up becoming more beautiful than the queen,
The king told her, 'You're the most beautiful child I have ever seen! ''
When the mirror told the queen, ‘'You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
She added, ''Little Snow-White is still a thousand times fairer than you.''
The king started seriously to think of the passion they had known
‘Cause the queen's self-satisfaction and insensibility have grown.
He realized that it's a wretchedness to continue sharing their bed.
He wanted to open a dialog with her, but the words left all unsaid.
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
It’s my thang a langwitch spellproteckter go getter- sleek katrina stereowrite braid these monster tentacles aww now cute buzz pro bro-intellectual collaboration gush &fush; & fleek flecks firecompass full of grandiose art verses culture legions sing over and outty 5000 package cursive dialog primer kilameter romance make it equator atypical retro passion that ****** away cuss words p phucker! grade cheated tempo cuntgrunge klue move shadows to stand alones while in line to get in the barfuck gang outside party with smilie txt tshirt and a computer on diet coke kush telescope acid whatever like you feel like emitting or like have 9 thoughts about or like forgot about escaping like post fever social media to become a social sensation out of perception the limited yet coveted cherished harps and fairies and twinkly shimmery **** that doesnt growl or grunt huh? Speech please dont
As if i had the guts to stomp on a butterfly-award speaking dear diary fanatics central stranger than fictive red read (aloud allowed?)Which one. politically slurred thousand jury chapter grew some serious social security numbers and dyed them to prove a cutup battle wins the war
**** **** fick fock u
Mindseekers
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
It was a writer’s line being the flow
Then came the Poet in just letting go
It was words to the finish
The finale in who will be distinguished
A writer’s dialog being about a far off place
I believe it had something to with star wars in a battle in outer space
The Poet wrote about the eyes having words
Imagination of words in a journey being heard
However the Writer and Poet going on their bout in who the Judges and fans will be talking about
Timing being the critical moments
The clock is ticking
Looks like the Writer might have writer’s block
It was some tense moments in being frozen stuck
The Poet is thinking the Writer should be plucked
Finally the Judge’s announced, “Thoughts down”
The Judge’s went though the Writer and Poet works in a hurdle conference among them selves
Only moment will tell
The moments turned into tense seconds
You could see sweat pouring from each of the Writer and Poet
But neither wanted to show it
Suddenly, the announcement of the winner
The Judges stated it was a hard decision
But they knew they had to have precision
The winner is, suddenly a pause
The Poet
But finally everyone knew it
The writer and Poet were excellent competitors
It made no difference in who was the champ
The Writer and Poet were both champions in amp
“If words can be expressed, then it is the sentences that says it best, write like you never have before as it is the journey of words you want the reader to explore”.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 7:23 PM UTC
Morning voice whispers:
Stillness and silence bring and guide the soul from the darkness into the door of light, bring hopes, bring tears of happiness, and dancing into the new breath of life, rebirth and producing "healthy baby"... And known that I'm loved I'm being blessed.
Poetry replies:
All welcome... As the dews in the morning shimmering the rays of love to the world... All welcome... As the morning air cleanses the past burdens... Purifies the bloodstream of mind and heart to the point (of no return) where freedom exhilarates life; envisions the paths for greater humanity and God's glory... All welcome...
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
I'm situated comfortably
in Anti Social County
It's a bit cloudy, but
what's the outside to a housefly
My girl, she stays at home couch bound;
a certified Netflix hound
She likes to confine her smile to
make up and daily suppliers
I've even seen her pull tricks to reinvent
the script of Pretty Little Liars
Good thing I'm addicted
to the way the juicy fruit drips
I got a dog
Yeah, I got a dog
I forgot it's name tho
So there ain't much dialog
It sits inside it's cage dreaming
of finer things like hydrants and sirens
-Luxury-
There is no grass only concrete
So what am I supposed to do
compare the blisters on both feet
I'd rather just smoke the green and
pretend like my effort wasn't on repeat
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
I sat across looking at my wife
Thinking, “Has there ever been another woman like Tina Lyn”
I was considering our shared love
The commitment we made to trust
Our choice to maintain an open dialog regarding faith
And always go to bed with hearts full of happiness
It’s not always easy to hold onto happiness
But it is easier when you have a relationship built on trust
Like the one I have with my wife
It only takes a little faith
And someone like my Tina Lyn
To have a life full of peace of mind and love
I wish everyone knew there was this kind of love
If only everyone could find their Tina Lyn
Then they too could experience this happiness
And begin to have some faith
Build a life with their lover or wife
With a strong foundation of honesty and trust
I never knew I could have such trust
In my youth I had no faith
Only fleeting moments of happiness
That all changed when I found my wife
And allowed myself to open up to her love
It was then I knew I would spend eternity with Tina Lyn
I still remember the first night I spent with Tina Lyn
And our conversations about the meaning of trust
And how important that was to real happiness
Is it any wonder I made her my wife
I had never known such complete and unconditional love
So I took a chance on faith
It’s a funny thing about faith
When one considers it without god, only trust
I had to learn these things from Tina Lyn
Even though I knew I ‘wanted’ a life full of love
‘Wanting’ is not the road to true happiness
and would have never brought me my perfect wife
I think about my happiness as a man in love
The trust I have in my relationship with Tina Lyn…
Only person to ever bring faith into my heart is my wife
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 5:56 PM UTC
I come down from this ***** high finally,
This ****** lifestyle that I've been living,
This life is a **** hole, barely making ends meet, crazy people ******* like dialog in a tv sitcom. Oh its soo ****** Just like the girl laying ***** soaked in my bed right now. Life is beautifully painted with sin and good intentions. In the morning I wont even address her by name, fact is I dont know it, shes a victim in my ego boost trap like the girl 45 mins before her was... Strange I dont get caught by now, guess my luck will stay till karma hits me, karma being the stripper I stole the money from out of sluttly skirt, I didnt need the money but the rush I was getting from *** just isnt doing it for me anymore. I need a new high...
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:31 AM UTC
you grin and i know not why
i trembled from inside
the scent of a filthy molded twilight
familiar as fermented grapes
still festering within
a knowing grin sore to my eyes
of this I internally despise
a form, a dialog, a ratchet blow
humane as a weathered withered rose
erectly clinging to vitality
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
Are such narratives abrasive
Such as the condition of our racists
Like our cops who fear black faces
Perhaps you find such dialog tasteless
Would you rather read of love
Higher powers from above
Blinded souls that now can see
Angelic intervention when we bleed
Are you afraid to know
Or uncomfortable
Surely you must have a care
The establishment
Has taken the power
While we were unaware...
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 8:21 AM UTC
The story opens surrounding a Greyhound bus
But the dialog illustrating must
It was a normal day at the Greyhound lot
But somewhere not far away some thieves were planning a plot
The thieves were planning to rob the Shining Light Jewelry Shop on Solid Hands Blvd
But they were going to use a Greyhound bus being there getaway
No one would suspect a Hound bus going astray
So the Robbers entered the Jewelry store with masks over their face
It was a matter of precaution so no one could trace
The Thieves quickly and moved swiftly out of the Jewelry store and onto the Hound bus
It was a perfect crime with the bus being the thieves plus
However, the Greyhound Company notified the Police that one of there
Buses was stolen from the lot
The Hound bus was now cruising on I-95 of the New Jersey Turnpike heading for Philly
That might sound silly, but the heat was on in New York and New Jersey
The Police were in hot pursue
The Hound Bus was maneuvering in and out of the Turnpike lanes
Yet, the bus was speeding at 80 miles per hour
The chase was on and it was long
The Hound bus being the fastest dog on wheels, but became the subject of ordeal
But the ordeal was for real
A chase that went on for hour after hour
A Road block was at a stretch of the New Jersey Turnpike
But the Hound bus barreled through
However, the Hound Bus had to be stopped before it reaches Pennsylvania lines
The chase was still on, and Helicopters were flying high and being on alert
Suddenly, Gunshots rang out
There was plenty of commotion on the highway being out and about
But somewhere this Hound Bus chase had to end
However, it wasn’t until when
The Thieves had been driving so fast
The Hound Bus was now running out of gas
The Police were able to move in
The Thieves were arrested and out done
The Hound bus was returned and another one of my stories being among.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 12:14 PM UTC
In this beautiful place of worship, the pews are padded but uncomfortable, the sanctuary large, candle lit and cold.
There's a huge glass dome and I can see the stars. Are the stars our fiery heaven??
No, I don't think the stars care about us - they don't burn with affection or passion. And if the stars weren't there we could live with an empty sky.
The Greeks would call on our star, the Sun, to perform their acts of God. I imagine most of their prayers went unanswered - not unlike our own??
To me, the whole Jesus story is somewhat sinister and inauspicious, but if Jesus, the son of God, and that whole story were the deepest, truest reality - then why hasn't Jesus returned??
Imagining heaven's father and son dialog
God: "Ok, Jesus, time to go back.."
Jesus: "Go back... go back?? Daaaaad... Did you see what they DID to me???.. nailed me to a cross; ***** them, there's no way I'm going back. Why don’t you try going back, as an ordinary man - maybe they’ll set you on fire.”
These 20 millennium old bible stories aren't exactly Euclid's logical system.... I mean, the various books aren't even consistent. Are these really, I mean really our beliefs? Or are they just kind of traditions and good rules to live by?
My parents - unlikely pilgrims in the intoxicating poetry of belief - face front and appear to be listening... in all other things they're so skeptical - it's a puzzle.
If Jesus did come back, wouldn't he practically be a caveman surrounded by bewildering technology?
I'm sorry, There's something too rich in creation for these rehearsed responses and fairy-tale fragments from a primitive world to be the answer.
Now I'm not saying there is no God or no life after death.. I.. just.. hopeless shrug
So, anyway - I go through the motions, I chant the litanies with the enthusiasm of obedience; just storing up my spiritual loot and hiding my questioning, heathen heart.
Happy Easter everyone!
Apr 9, 2023
Apr 9, 2023 at 10:24 AM UTC
I was once a ravenous creature
bit by the words of my upbringers
generations of lies
I was once one of those ravenous creatures
of whom I despise
but I've learned to find my freedom, without cutting all my ties
to the ones I love (I was once a ravenous creature)
to their love
I've retreated into the deep forrests of my tears
in contemplation I've laid rest, all my compulsive fears
I know my stengths, but I also know my weakness
I am better attuned to this inner dialog, attuned to its inner uniqueness
I was once a ravenous creature
bit by the words of my upbringers
generations of lies
I was once one of those ravenous creatures
of whom I despise
of which I empathize
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
*I lay, of my own volition, in a space meant for her:
a confined and achromatic scene.
My hands, malodorous, muddy and splintered,
leisurely rest on my chest, free from labor machines.
Here I rest, hackneyed and discouraged
in a pitifully human attempt to simulate death
I curse my virtue; it chastises back as it
mourns the curious exploitation of my health.
It was meant to last only a minute,
as sorrow chains my putrid despair in place.
Yet I, to this day, cannot begin to explain
how the darkness manifested itself a face.
I attempted to strike a movement but remained still
as the daemon began to smile.
The plan was to endure without oxygen for seconds,
yet the creature stayed my conscience for a while.
In a surprising and trepid consternation,
I find myself in service to mendicancy.
The creature, a devil with venetian red oculi,
salivates at its newest and prized delicacy.
I cry at the fleeting mastery of my faculty,
yet the tears remain inattentive and departed.
Time blesses the creature with a dominant sentence
as reality registers a dialog that I had started.
“Where is my daughter? I demand to know.”
The creature’s smile grows ever wider.
He then takes the form of the stuffed turtle toy
that used to sleep right beside her.
The creature, in a droning and unmelodious voice,
utters a perplexing, yet commanding noise:*
“ATIV ARETLA NI MAN ES ED OLEF”
*Frightened yet discouraged, I aim to find the sense
in the puzzling command the creature produced.
“She’s been missing for days! I need to know where she is!”
The beast speaks again, letting its anger loose:*
“FELO DE SE NAM IN ALTERA VITA!!”
*Suddenly, albeit boundlessly, the stillness was lifted,
and my structure was free from this tenebrous stead.
I raise myself and clasp at the summit’s precipice
after having danced with a beast in this wooden bed.
The vacant coffin remained pristine,
fitted with natural calico cotton lining.
The devil you fear the most is the one you create
and mine emerged with impeccable timing.
The creature’s malevolent ballad persistently tattles
as The Lapse rebroadcasts the “truth” it wanted to utter.
It had told me, “Become a felon of oneself,
and thine own life shall be traded for another.”
I refuse to concur with the creature’s decisiveness
as my unyielding faith will ensure my daughter’s return.
Her weighty and boundless absence must cease
and lead to the terminus of my inexhaustible concern.*
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
He sat in dewy grass
Writing a pastoral dialog.
“And death is also here,” mused he.
“All art depends on gravity.”
He neatly ordered his pages.
She wove lilacs in her hair,
Standing on moss in the damp morning air.
He considered that God might be in all things.
Was he blaspheming by crushing the grass?
But of course Bentham’s calculus obviates sin.
He thoughtfully scratched his chin.
She approached him from behind,
Dismayed by the clutch of wildflowers
Someone had wrenched out by the roots and thrown away,
Yet suffused in the absolute peace of that day.
She touched his arm—a summons.
What was that sensation?
He was left without rational explanation.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC