the sky begins to color:
black turns to a dark blue
and a river of slight pink,
with eddies of purple
runs across the sky. birds
pass over in a flock. they
know something is wrong
but are not burdened by
enough awareness to pin it.
we are gone, or, most of us.
the globe continues to spin
around the star which also
spins. and the moon, wet
and rising, continues to
grin.
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...