we want no
"special interrogations" but only
spring
or the human
business of kisses
the germ of freedom
dark corners filled with candles
and flowers but
no mourning
instead
chains of daisies lips
fastening over stems
all frolic
love not war
closed doors
path ways to no where
warped words wrapped
in brown paper leavings
overturned pages leafed through
rippling
dripping memory
trappings of days forgotten
lost over time
I used to walk with my head in the clouds but I kept getting struck by lightning!
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse