Tuesday, August 28, 2012


You think through it, not into it,
a squadron of images which bring you
from somewhere down the road
to here;  a stand of experiences tarnished
by time.  Yet not without a soul.

In a republican way, I wonder how a nation
survives when athletes are paid more than
scientists, the only creativity in the way
a body twists and bleeds.  The pregnant
pause of change needs nourishment.

The past in the present, the future continued desire.

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