ROCKING WORLD 3/23/07

These days are the days of riding the wind.
The crows are screaming. They have been scalded
and are even now hot-footing it out of town.

The dragons are enveloping the unicorns in stinging dust.
The sun melts. Crystalline shadows rock and gyrate
to a deeper truth. Rotting pumpkins in the patch
snark and snicker; rave, rant, curse. The clouds,
damn the clouds with their toxic crystal vision.
Like Pilate, a youngun asks, "What is truth?"
Where is the Philosopher? Send in the crowds.
The young will all forget as the winds blast them away,
screaming like triumphant worms.

Crowds of gyrating puppets enter stage left,
chanting something about what they learned in
Language Arts. We are rocking out on magicks.

Eat my socks! It's predators, not preditors.

sapphoq n friends