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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Wednesday, May 1, 2013


The red butterflies never mix with the blue ones
Like the hot vastness of determined lava
Cocoons into blackness at the touch of
Cool crazy clueless air.
Tiny sparks of shiny balloons bursting,
Millions in a moment;
Or smooth sweet curls of silky gold
Float-falling, taking ages
To reach the ground.
Has it occurred to you,
It is either insane or down?
Up and down, up and down,
Down and out
Or up and around?
Until it forms flakes all around that
Blubbering flubbering red buffoon
And dry ripples and cracks take over
Covering all
And there is no more

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