Sunday, November 6, 2011

Our progress

Our old negotiations have not changed.
Sadness beside happiness is cozy enough.
Uncertainty has its toothless laugh
in the middle of a truth finding apparatus.
Roots of our fears hang by
like the flowing hair of resting ghosts.
New journeys are made across
the old stretch marks of love.
Our arch rivals, ourselves, still exist.
Our limbs are lost to machines
But the skin engulfs newer flesh under its belt.
The unattended call home still unsettles us.
The search for fundamental particle doesn't end.
And stagnation has its algae in progress.

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