Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Ethereal Beauty #95

Collisions of air with air
Used to bring lightening
And pissed off Big Daddy messages.

Now I'm too weak
To fight phantoms,
And become them.

It's dry.
Vapors are photographic white.

Unrestful, more ill-at-ease
Than when I ‘lived‘,
I interrogate the air.

Holographic hoodoos
Millions of feet fretting ether
Are dinner plates on gargantuan hypodermic needles.

Escape into .... ?

I oscillate, spineless,
Evaporating in demon motes.

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