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Friday, November 19, 2010

Turn me inside out

Would you mind
if I turned myself inside
outside
to side
for your rock and roll
to move my soul
to the rhythm of the song
that can't be heard or sung or wrote.
Would you mind if I turned myself inside out
for you to hold
to sway
to swing
to breathe on each others neck
as we sing
to a song that can't be heard.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Why do the fingers
Of the little once beautiful lady
(sitting sewing at an open window
this fine morning) fly instead of dancing?
Are they possibly afraid
That life is running away
From them (I wonder) or
Isn’t she aware that
Life (who never grows old) is
Always beautiful and that
Nobody beautiful ever hurries?
– e.e. cummings