Blue Sunday
waiting for the sun...

My poems are
dreams and memories...

Snowflakes pirouette
tiny winter moonlight dancers...

It makes a
hot heart hurt...

Feeling like there\'s no time, zilch
feeling like a nine times blue someday man...

There's a blandness in the air
that stones me more than any drug...

My mind seeks
to set the words on fire...

Just as there are some things
that must be seen to be believed...

The epochal zenith,
an explosion of creation...

Why do i move toward my future
with such lemming instinct resignation...

After the dawn's metamorphosis
we taste the hard edge of living...

Science and technology
slayers of myth and religion...