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07/13/09 - (4)
Spores
I'm completely undiscriminating when it comes to venues, Places to light, where I might listen to the world go by And carry my thoughts adrift, on fugitive breezes,
Like dandelion and conifer spores, Let them fall to earth, burrow into the fertile dirt, Perpetuate weeds, stands of white or red pines.
To be sure, my divine soul Has ever inclined toward submitting to the drift of things, Allowing any wind to move my spirit along, uncensored,
To its ultimate closure, in the cold ground, Before I assume the ermines of immortality, Accept eternity as the viable alternative to dying alone.
07/13/09 - (4)
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