than the world's end ...
a clown, after midnight,
playing a gypsy violin
we hear loudest:
the moment before birth ...
the whispers of our heart ... that last
* In response to Adelaide Crapsey's TRIAD.
Les Champs Elysees
through all my sunlit days,
I would still close my eyes - and dream
the dream takes flight.
Above the wrinkled world
I soar through sunlit skies, then close
a thunderbolt from far heavens,
aflame with one desire -
to rest on her
Return to the front page of this issue:
3, No. 2 Fall 2004 & Winter 2005
Go to the
Poets & Authors page for the poet's
biographical sketch and email link.
These poems are Copyright © 2005 by Michael L.