Thursday, July 1, 2010

Quill #1 - Connections (2010)

We can't,
Just cannot
Slow it down any further.

Every prismatic light show passes beyond our vision,
Sensory overload to the point of blindness.

No beehive, mohawk or mullet holds the key,
No paisley, peasant or plaid,
Nothing blue, borrowed or antique,
Even a million FaceBook friends.

If we could skim along like a dragonfly on a pond,
We would lose everything.
The turtle's pace already exceeds our capacity for change.

Disconnected lily pads,
Drowning in tiny rings.
Time is never still.

Arm to arm,
Children reach across.


  1. According to Heinlein, there's nothing wrong with writing poetry. But do it in private and wash your hands after.

    Speaking for myself, though, I'm glad to see you sharing your feathers!

  2. True, mullets don't hold the key...children do. Children love holding shiny, jingly things. (I like this poem)