A L B A T R O S SA L B A T R O S SA L B A T R O S S
From anonymous islands On an isobar To anonymous men’s eyes Under binary stars
Such is your white span of Time- It is not saying anything, For the centre of us not to exist It understands It must not say anything.
The last of men still sail With triangles in their eyes Circles of endeavour Knot old ties Illusions of contact With the constellation’s Truth:
None will touch that pathless land, Not while the impassable coastline Of Faith Pounds new sands.
The dunes hide
The Enigmatic Fork6:03 PM, September the twenty-sixth, 2006: Two anonymous individuals Discover a vaguely fork-shaped entity In the parking lot of a local high school.The Enigmatic Fork
It’s function and motive Remain a mystery.
Last RitesShe slid into the annals of history without a murmur or a backward glance and fell through the cracks of consciousness to settle within the folds of revision her life no more resembling what it was or how it feltLast Rites
Before her final breath of objection her thoughts lingered
… perhaps too long…
on how it felt to be herself and as she pondered this and recalled she slid into our memory there to stay for eternity.
I really appreciate it
-Isaiah
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My Art: [link]
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"I thank you for those items
that you sent me:
The monkey,
and the plywood violin."
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~I think I know, I don't think I know, I don't think I think I know, I don't think I think~
FIND YOUR INNER POKEMON!
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