Sunday, August 22, 2004

A Powell River Moment

missed the starlings,
diving over brownian motion seeds,
strewn by hand.

cats gather,
will the birds dither?
speed speaks, claws streak,
blood flows into air and carnivorous cavity.

satisfied with the early-bird-special,
old cats talk about
children saddened
by media images of missing children
once ignored by all media.

this attention will mean I am dead.

this death will mean I'll be seen.

this viewing will be mundane.

this banality saddens the masses who remember the dead.

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