Think how it wakes the seeds- Woke once the clays of a cold star Are limbs, so dear achieved, are sides Full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? -O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth’s sleep at all?
Poetry
Poems, verse, poetry, odes, ballads
YELLOW FISH
I was painting ten paintings the other day. In the music studio and lost an idea among a pile of dead poems sitting on a shelf, it was a good idea! It was something about the sound a bird makes after a terrible storm; for the world is stilled and made over completely in that single solitary second. This is not the only world…by far...
IT’S NOT THAT COMPLICATED…
The versions of old stories took on a life of their own. The sheer amount of time involved, expressed itself as well. Like myths do. It began to no longer be a campfire tale, an interesting thing one speaks about on a long voyage. It seemed it became the most logical answer to that age-old problem -- well, wonder that is...many people tried to exploit it, they push mystery...
don't worry you can change this later 
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