the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Waiting In Weather

The air about me shook with talk show reruns
And my eyes wandered beyond the black silhouettes
Against the soft orange glow behind the panel.
Every channel was an earthquake
And cold voices made their choices again.
The freshest soil held the oldest faces
Who spoke through dampened cloth,
Denatured to the most natural state.
They were back to what made them not (or) so great,
Singers are for singers, but the bringer stays the same
Personified, thus given life with her love-given name.

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