Wednesday, July 21, 2010

[Unfinished] untitled poem

pixie prancers play on lily pads
fox fire hair, like wild whips
snapping to their spiraled steps
with gold flowered tiaras
and mischievous eyes

cannot catch such a creature
must dance with them instead
must ask the right questions
or so it has been said
they answer with a "Mayyy-be!"
while smile slides --------
like new moon in the night sky
crescent of

cycle of wane & wax
...

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