Mad North-Northwest

When the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.

23.1.10

-

Short lines written in the margin of notes for a class about the balance of the world. I make no apologies for it.

If this isn't good enough
let me write you
a soft sweet symphony
in C, to throw you
headlong
into the maelstrom
take a deep breath
and inhale the anestral choir of being
until we don't be.
Posted by Guy Faux at 20:26
Labels: poetry
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