Monday 4/30/2007 11:50:00 PM

In the stubborn genetics of humanity we are all survivors. The discoveries. Fears and triumphs of neaderthal still seasoning our blood. On brass heartbeats life rises from the tarnish. Over sidewalks erupting with the roots of trees I wander the volcano wondering if any of our power is real. Are we evoultion? Or just the dinosaurs of today?

I'm usually more about personal moments. The one drone dissatisfied with the hive. The single word drowning in the vastness of the page. Trying to rescue it. Ballet slippers on every encounter. Nutcracker Suites beseeching idle Beethovens.

There will always be circumstances. Bottles much too easily. Too often opened. As humbled of our weakness as we are empowered by it. I was dead, but still I live. I've been broken so many times, but still I have all my pieces. I was born a child, but somehow became an adult. I am lost from everyone.

Except myself.

And that is all I need to know.

0 comments:


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.