A Poem By Gary // 3/4/2010

Amidst the tanned, living fields

The ghostly shades are drifting.

Magic canning jars full

Of crickets riding their bicycles.

Perfumes in a green case

And porcelain faces to break,

Mom seldom wears perfumes.

This house has many basements

Locked away in silence.

What ghosts proceed from the barn?

Those that follow my friends –

But my friends will overcome them

One day – Thank God.

Joker is dead, but

No dog heaven will hold her.

Her blue eyes are so full of the

Illusory love those shades

Do not posses.

In this landscape God is with me, but my family is haunted.



mmm....kind of creepy and mysterious, but I like it.

Clare Marie | Mon, 03/08/2010

"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve." -Bilbo Baggins [The Lord of the Rings]


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