tracing designs on the lower heaven
the path leads westward

traversing with beggars
life in solitude leads away

gracing open courtyards
the blooms awaken in a shout of movement
congregation of butterflies
fluting thru the mist

wisps of greenhouse effect lingers
scalding, multiplying

buzzing revelation lead to cracked organs
clogged streams of motion
more stagnant than fluid

rays of Pegasus light leave the steps taken unrecognized
conducting underground
blending in chirps by intermission
outbursts are likely due to leaking
security not answerable
basking in the glow of futility

America the beautiful?

today be the eleventh
first day of September blues

©2002, Greg Rogers

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