Friday, September 16, 2005


The quality of air on the first authentic winter night
Crisp electric frantic charged
The instant between
Friends and a first kiss

And all these winter nights
Glistening with all the potential of gunpowder
Scanter off
As fish through a net
In some monotoan zen koan
But the white blanket
The silence as if before a death rattle
The cold sting
The stillness like a prelude to the bomb
Echoes of whispered possibilities
Ever gone-
Unless…Echoes of whispered possibilities

No comments: