Friday, November 23, 2007

Where the Dragon Flies go to Die

By the pool of dreams in the cool of the evening

where the dragon Flies go to die.

White birds rise like fleeing souls

and skim the boundary between life and death

calling as though for something lost.

Evening snapped on through a bloodless sunset.


Sparse and reluctant stars rim the periphery of the sky.


It is a cloudless night.

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