From - Forgotten Race Saving Grace



We traveled in lines

mostly frightened

listening for direction

leaders and scouts

spewing and pointing in different directions

bits and pieces of forcasts

Some could see

2 sections down

I could see stories beyond


We traveled in groups

traversing underground bridges

timing our jumps thru pendulum swinging walls

desperate for any way thru

we could see the Minotaurs

reaching down

grabbing hold

and biting off heads


Halfway thru

our group found our underground cliff house

We were given instruments

I was to play the violin blues


Broken instruments to be sure

mishandled by the thousands

only 4 strings and

my bow was only 4 inches short

strung with splitting twine

no hair to be bound

Rob played an old rusty tin.


Brave women came and sang

These were no ordinary

sacrificial lambs

dressed in pleated flowing

chiffon reposed in pale green

arms outstretched to each Minotaur

voices heralding harmonics

formidable phantasmic frequencies

we plucked along



Watching out for needles

only fall brown leaves crackle


My soles have blackened

not even a stare


The city doesn’t roar

it whispers


ghosts have freedom

Maybe the throng are the ghosts


I only know my skin hairs

against light wind


created by a purposely slow gait


Did I reincarnate as a horse?


No, no my body bounces

two dimensionally


from window to window

fully exposed


never minding

conventions or repercussions


pacing time for acceptance

pacing time for this one moment


covered only in a shroud of thought.