for Martin Heidegger
like a child
shoved
down the playground slide
scared
I reach this age
forty six
a long strip
of white sand
washed by waves
no footprints left
separated
by a thin wall
I've never
greeted my neighbour
Death
Death
(whom I just befriended)
and I
chat about our dreams
through the vent in the wall
Death lurks
about the room
taunting
how can I stop her
from editing my poems?
Death and I
face to face
minds apart
staring in silence
who will blink first
July/August 2010 issue of Sketchbook
Hot News: New Milestone, 3. 75 M Pageviews and Call for Submissions
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My Dear Friends:
NeverEnding Story reached a new milestone early this morning: 3.75* M
pageveiws* (FYI: *yesterday's pageviews: 20, 710; last month's pagev...
