Vivid colors remain impressed on this
brain, and I hear sounds like speakers buzzing
floating around my feet and my chest. Is
this really a dream or a drubbing?:
Tornadoes in heads, and earthquakes afoot,
my world was so subject to conforming
to tighter worlds where conforming is good,
to fraughter schemes where losing is learning:
Buzzing and singing and dreaming in praise
of the essential goodness in us all,
I am trying to learn more as the days
further force me towards a wanting to fall:
And by "fall," I do not mean from full grace,
but rather to disappear and lose face.
urbansonnets 