the lost know how to be found they are the dust of failures and the chance for success they court the sun worship the moon and question the shadow following behind they hum an unfamiliar song remembering parts and the parts offered up for another try at something, anything
we awake under rumpled sheets of thoughts the prison of two ideas lines dissolve between dreams and the mystery of fragmented images remembering corner shadows and glimpses of the lost and parts of what is never found as we rise from bed becoming the servant to the master of day
There’s a chance to enter forgot. A way to avoid being found. To disconnect. To welcome the cold over a warm coat while standing with alone. It’s also a place for a rescue from flavored languages the last bus home while leaving behind suspicious glances, worn velvet movie seats and a three legged cat … More SPARKY
Roger Singer 