We are rabid in one accord.
The pity plant of baseless comparisson,
the last warm colour among the shaded gray.
Ignorance, indifference, ambivalence, apathy and peace.
Peace in the lilies, the stillness of knowing
how many times justice is limited to a hair line fracture.
We are rabid, truly rotten in a dogged time.
We are pilots plotting our 9/11.
Towering dreams dripping in glue memoires of makeshift beliefs.
All this is chaff to the wind.
I still; wait for that moment after the flames roll away
in simple seductive silence.