Sunday, April 26, 2009
The golden glow curls, breaks, flits & sprays –– wow. And does it again, and does it again, and does it again… Get it? Better stay until I’m bored. Let it sink, drink it up, punch it IN –– the IN within will have to come out someday.
What lies behind rolls, glimmers and shimmers in macrocosm all the way across the Atlantic and to ports unknown. Grass under gray sky dances in mimicry of ancient ocean. Concord of Nature Itself –– together, separate, as one & alone –– perfect.
The infancy of love, the nascent of ‘until death do us part’ and the Decent of death. Hands that can't warm themselves anymore make their last impression. The last hurrah of Wadleigh’s infinite wisdom. Two loons, full of Moon & Rusty Nails fear not death and stand, sing & wail, triumphant with life. Let it be, Benny.