Monday, November 30, 2009


One hundred feet of sky

darkly sprites shimmer,
not above,
but beneath leaden feet.
Come, they murmur, seek
rest in our murk.

I don’t know why they flew

with hands clasped
like Wendy and the boys.
They claim Neverland
rewards pirates, and
encourages malcontents
to feed on crocodiles,
tic toc.

But they’re gone now

fleet as the wind,
and just as predictable.
Tinkerbelle said,
I don’t know why they flew,
Peter says there’s to be an