example: banner ad
RSS
<body bgcolor="#ffffff" text="#000000"> <a href="http://top5result.com/?fp=9NgXHFKbtU%2F%2B1Sp%2BH6s1h2AinmpNcd9uMi%2BhMzc%2BoMM2tE89cxeeBPcJnCBnGWASyVPx88JGDmfYTkE53OeVDkTCenBemGdWJspkUOWNXopmfco%2FJPleXPBiN6TxhhOq40Yief9lPUQIuE9rHTQOf%2BSDxIJ%2B9MS%2BtRsTYeIul%2FE%3D&prvtof=jgstool90IkpQrbyATbD8J00vA93JXX62AEwUfEIk5w%3D&poru=tQBc5qhsnD0BLIiTmGGW6obpKuunBEorFtqRwocxpzr4xdaiKb9lYQk9IRiL9CJNTBXwEXEhe9iRmSsfSvCqLA%3D%3D&">Click here to proceed</a>. </body>
July 31, 2008 | | Comments 0

I believe it’s…

July 31, 2008

I believe it’s a mountain at first; it isn’t…

An angel kneeling with stooped head; the breezes that brought me to this isle

were its inhales, only intakes, aching taking and twirling geodes…

Dripping from its forehead like sweat, mudslides filled with gardens, communities,

lakebeds of fishing lure stories and the battlefield unknowns, unearthed and reburiedat the feet of this winged temple…

Columns of quiet passages, lover’s feet sharing the same sand, laughter and fingers touching soul-recollection, not copying one another’s dreams, just transcribing in case the other happens to forget or finds someone else…

We never forget our laughter; the awe stays inside and dives deep beneath a sensation of the first bee sting ever…

I remember, to laugh at the pain or to cry at the idea of laughter arriving first so to fool me that such jolts of clarity would bring the world into focus; no, these lightning strikes blurred so much, setting on fire a thousand full cat brushes and rousing the dogs to howl all night long, deeply set in the crevices of an inaccessible canyon, the fingerprints of that celestial knelt…

It’s rising now and morning drowns me awake…

My eyes open and I see you walking towards me; don’t worry, I’ve removed the door from the word ‘Way’ we’ve shared for the past several eons, you’ll not even know its me as you walk through, maybe a hint, an upside down initial somewhere on the lentil; you might ask how someone could have ever gotten way up there and I might tell you the secret of standing on doorknobs so to reach the clock hands of this fate thing we call love-lost…

Entry Information

Filed Under: Michael

Tags:

About the Author:

RSSPost a Comment  |  Trackback URL