Life

                                           is a circle.

                      We enter from nowhere, screaming.

                        Live through the round, talking.

                 Die, to go who knows where, whimpering.

                    During our lives, word leaves fall.

                              Where they are pleasing,

                                 some may be gathered

                                         to be pressed

                                        between pages.

                                          Enjoyed as a

                                                 book.

                                                I hope

                                                   so.

 

                                                  OR

 

                                                 Lucid

                                          word leaves

                                       fall through life.

                                  Some, where beautiful,

                                        may be pressed

                                            in a book.

                                                Enjoy.

 

 
 

David Garlick, Victoria, March, 1995