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The Testimony of Lowell SwiftWhile on my way from work one day
With roses for my love,
A paper blade with a pearl of jade
Came falling from above.
Zooming down upon my crown,
It darn near shook my brain!
But I massaged my head and said,
"A gift for my dear Madelaine!"
On closer inspection, I found imperfection:
The tiny jade pearl was a fake.
And only to follow, the whole thing was hollow!
Then the knife began to quake!
And out from inside crawled a tiny pride
Of miniscule little men
No bigger than ants, they stepped out to prance
Across the table in the den.
Overcome by the sight, I felt alight!
I brought them some Earth-food, an offer of friendship.
They were quite touched, and they loved it so much
That their curiosity soon turned to worship.
Six o'clock - a key in the lock
Madelaine walked through the door.
She told me that evening that she was leaving
For one that she loved more.
The little people hopped then before I could stop them
Through the portal in the knife
And with a start, drove it th
FluxHis eye is a yellow egg with a yolk
Black and perfectly centered. It does not
Dart about as most eyes do, but
Stares sideways, straight off the
Side of his head. The
Waves rise and
Break over his
He does not
See, he does not
Silhouette of a statue with
Eyes like glass, and thus,
Doomed to be smashed. Suddenly
A scream of
Laughter, a flit of the
Eye, a flurry of
Jubilant child on the beach,
And wild-eyed pelican in the sky.
RegenliedThe rain, dancing naked on the roof,
Croons a seductive song in her ear.
She flutters her way through the darkness
To a whimsical beat, chasing dreams.
With gentle pitter-patter fingers,
The rain softly takes her hand and runs.
They run together without starlight
Because the sky has melted away.
And the world explodes into a dust,
A wild chaos of watery shards.
The moon dissolves into fireflies
As she breathlessly kisses the mist.
Together they waltz, slickly barefoot
Beneath the night's sodden, dripping wings,
Splashing luminescent lunar tears.
There is no rhythm, simply falling.
Evening dwindles like a music box
Full of melodic melancholy
And torpid night's fiery exhale.
The rain tucks her in with fading arms.
The sun wakens her, kissing her hands,
Mild, traditional, and abashed,
Cheerfully ignorant of her nights
Riding dreams upon the sound of rain.
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