Sunday, January 27, 2008


Images vaulted inside
Are crayoned on the opaque windows
A few are lost
A few get mirrored.

The mirrors are true
But the images aren't
Stand before them
And they show
Someone else for you.

The sunlight
Is from, just another neon lamp
The silent scenic hills
Are murals on the drab walls.

The worms are cultured
Just for you
For your freedom
From this silver frame.

1 comment:

Assman said...

nice one man.. love the third para very much actually.