Life is a whisper....
a whisper
between
two worlds
where
the sun spends its winter and the
eastern cottontail cheats predators;
where the purple tailed swallow
hangs her hat evermore and
pale pink camelias grow wild
in the westward mountains,
the
westward mountains;
those characterless silent towers
spring calls home.
Who in the sam hill
could find controversy with this
space time continuum;
in this space,
this space....
the only one
we have left.
Still though they are, the angels
mount an insurrection
at 11:18 on the streets of eternity
and monolith-like speakers
broadcast the eulogies
of those left far behind.