Location: Chicago, Illinois, United States

Thursday, December 08, 2011

It's an almost poem

With breath control there is no idea, emotion, or object you cannot dissolve into the rest. It brings the white blankness where there is peace.

A bush sprouts tiny overnight. Soon comes its prime, its beautiful days -- days, days, days fragrant with musk. The worms have done their job.

A man walks his smiling, sharp-toothed dog, excitement on a leash, excrement on a leash, the cause and effect of sniffing.

One with nature, the homeless still aren't heard.


Blogger sybil law said...

I'd say it is. A damned good one. One of my favorites, actually! :)

11:51 PM  
Blogger JMH said...

I'm glad.

11:15 PM  

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