the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010


An American standard:
The American sandwich, three-one-four,
Shiny white coats and a shiny tiled floor.
Sometimes a little burnt on the edges,
But it is going to be a classic
And there isn't any other way I'd have it.
Time constraints make a schedule
Make a freedom of its own,
Some air so it can grow.
Some more so it can laugh,
Shake the heavies out
That scream about some whispered past.
In a digital world, binary we breathe,
Where all that we need
Is less than three.

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