"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Chatham Station: Fathoms

Water pushed up sideways,
blurred in the beer haze five deep,
fathoms and otherwise.
When she finally saw I ran,
tumbled as fast as I could on all fours
but turned the wrong way.
It's all I have left to build,
trample it down in layers
to try and cross the sea.
It's a blue I built single-handed,
filled in the lines with crayon
when acrylics were within easy reach.
So here's to another one gone,
when I reached out my arms and grasped air.
What's another six feet?

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Coheed & Cambria, Three Evils (Embodied In Love And Shadow)

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