It's busy. So very very busy...and I don't have time to write much. So I do it with that blasted magnetic poetry.

he summers here in
     whispered springtime worship
   behind a forest
          misted like the wind
 --asks: when will these
        delirious purple moments
recall the smooth and languid
       sleep of sin?

and singing sweet
       of luscious places shadowed,
    of dreaming under
           sordid bitter moons;
bare petall'd power 
  floods the diamond winter
       and death is yet a beauty--
     all too soon.
           NsB 02-09-02
                "dandelion"

now feeling:: anxious