Trance attuned.
Silence echoed.
Divinity restored.

You would not say
late things
to an early bird
the idea is absurd

this might be empty
tho
of well you know
but look no

don't look
at me
whilst i whittle
away to almost far enuf

In order to maintain its holiness and continuous appeal, life deviously hides grim images from the majority of its members.

There is nothing
All the jars and cans
Sit empty on the shelves.
There is no hope for more.
The roads to everywhere are closed.
And Greyhound doesn’t stop here any more.

Everything is nebulous.
The equipment is all broken down
And rusting outside in the rain.
We ordered from a catalog
But never got a shipment back,
And our check was never cashed.

There is nothing in the pipeline.
The doorbell doesn’t seem to work.
The screen door has a hole in it,
Patched with pages
Ripped from next week’s calendar,
And the phone declines to ring.

Everything is over now,
The happy times
Are past and gone.
All that’s left to us is weeping
And the Kleenex box is empty,
So the tears make puddles on the floor.

All we see through tear filled eyes:
Another day in paradise.
            ljm

Somewhere
in an underwater
terror ship
on a dune of heresy
is a bibliotic periscope.

Every time I begin to clean with a magic eraser I feel sad, because of the pure white and clean lines soon to be smudged and torn apart. I console myself with it's function, the beauty of it's usefulness; but still.

on my fingertips
the small noises
of a still night