beyond the magic of man
Emotion not bottled but boxed
The cold gun metal rests in my head
lantern lights shine softly
on the ripples and ebbs
of mirroring water
Like the screech of nails on a blackboard
freedom extrapolates industrially
becoming so much white noise
e-mail the poet at stevenj1@hotmail.com
info on the writer
to go back to the home page
