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carpediem

  • Narrative Poetry Re: Queen of Hearts

    A wheel, rain bowed, starts spinning. I'm on it, or rather in it. It’s a geometrical plane of sorts; the colors are infinite and the points in all directions. Every ...

    Aug 31, 2009
  • Other Poetry Re: Slingshot

    A mouth Is a slingshot, stretching To the point when the stone Flings. My head bears the marks of these Rocks thrown.

    Aug 31, 2009


By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.
— Genesis 3:19