Sunday, June 1, 2014


Round, ragged
We walk
air puffing our from us
like three broken down chimneys
lined up against one blue sky
We are on the same piece of land
for now, before we both get sent into space
A space vacuumed from proclamations
and questioning
There's a roundness inside each of us
inside all of us, creatures operating on
air and fear
There's a tire that just keeps on rolling
pushing us beyond ourselves onto
A will to life
A will to beauty
A will to a new tomorrow
and onward we roll
like the earth spinning round itself.

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