Monday, November 23, 2009


With rain comes good luck,

But it takes time to yield.

The severe shape of the rock
Takes ages
To mould.

Then there's the imagination:
Seasick, homeless and retrieving...

A watery pinch between the sky and familiar rot
It seizes, it lodges the believer.
In such desperation that no flourish of
fortune could prevail.

Good luck.

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