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15607204351_9dae05a2f2_zTears are made of salty water
And sea levels are rising
Rising
The empty winds
Hum through the wires
But only the male whales sing

The crystal turns in the sunlight
And makes the rainbows dance
Dance
The drunkards walk
The hours fly
But only the caged wasp stings.

Tears are made of salty water
But only the male whales sing
Sing
Lo and Behold
A well on the hill

And something,something Jesus.

The moonlight sparkles on water
The winds through the wires keen
Keen
The elephants
Can’t unremember
Where all the bones came from.

Tears are made of salty water
Sea levels are rising
Rising
How can you tell
If you’re there yet
When you’re running for your life?

Teardrops on crystal sparkle
Moonlight on water gleams
Gleams
How can you tell
If you’re there yet
When there’s no place you can go?

 

Photo © 2014 Hi Fructose, The Contemporary Art Magazine, Sculptor Jason DeCaires Taylor,  Sculpture Garden at Punta Nizuc, Cancun, Mexico

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What can I say, but that The Walking Man stopped by earlier in the week, I reread the first four Foreigner books in three days, and last night I watched an episode of American Masters I’d recorded earlier about playwright August Wilson, parts of which floored me on the quarterdeck like Nelson’s sniper.  Strange brew.