Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the poet is a liar
the moon is a dead rock
my lover's eyes,
two gelatinous masses
spinning, this way and that

there is poetry in this pebble
you too, have meaning and purpose
it used to be part of something bigger
a little chip off an old block
perhaps, a fragment of god
or a pocketful of elements,
compressed, crystallized
into the form you see before you

i prefer to think of it as a pebble

This absolutely wowed me, mr. I mean it, I was floored.
Very, very beautiful! I liked to keep it in a pocket.

thanks! i am fond of this poem - it has economy, but it still expands.