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Quadrature of the Loon

Perhaps I spoke too soon?

The worlds have passed,
or were too few then born?

The trees are covered
with white lace,
the second law will
raise its ugly face

And time is torn...

It's hardest to believe
that one exists
in a universe of forms
too large for lists

Green men
blush meekly,
wilt before their
mothers
in such heat

So, perhaps I spoke too soon?

What can a human sing
or spoon,
but slaps of water-chilling
dawn at noon?

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anselmo_b
Mar. 12th, 2009 08:18 pm (UTC)
For the poem of course.
Cydonia photo: ESA

This is the journal of David Ross
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