Sunday, July 13, 2008

Strange Attractor

Strange Attractor - 2008-07-13 09:23

Strange Attractor

Shaken words that paint as sound on sand
Of measured careful thoughts pushed hard.
To Bing and bong the gong of all
A willful  shape of lips and tongue.

And pause an echoed something
 In the confused of rushing noise
and the scree of loose parts shorn
The colored quarks to each way fly
And take themselves away to play.

As the rush of words unfold,
Plastic rubbered blowback.
Pinning ear to rail
Awaiting the hum
To remind you of the time
And the place where all is born
When the thoughts find word.

This shape of fear and faith 
Twisted by the arms of god
Alone and blind in pounded rubble
Our word our torch
Giving dimness to a gloom.

Mike Brady 2009/2017

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