Posted by Atticus on October 19, 2006, at 14:26:13
Weathered boots like leather boats
Clear crackling hissing concrete moats
Among leaves gone gold and red.
The branches above curl and twine
Like rivulets of airborne wine
Spilled on blue skies overhead.We’re all spun-glass spiders
Dangling from dew-dappled strings,
Beings of beauty, beings of poison,
We are such fragile things.Rusty steel-mesh rubbish bins
Brimming with discarded sins
Draw street emperors in search of jewels.
Their chapped, discolored calloused fingers
All dance a deft ballet that lingers
In phantom webs that fade as the day coolsWe’re all spun-glass spiders
Dangling from dew-dappled strings,
Beings of beauty, beings of poison,
We are such fragile things.A fine and shiny Big Mac wrapper
Can make a man feel rather dapper
Protruding from his coat’s left breast pocket.
A silk handkerchief high-society marker,
A splash of panache on his stained parka,
A twinkle floats his long-sunken eye sockets.We’re all spun-glass spiders
Dangling from dew-dappled strings,
Beings of beauty, beings of poison,
We are such fragile things.
poster:Atticus
thread:696073
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20060920/msgs/696073.html