When I am on my Own, my words dance from my mind To my tongue, fill the Air with joyous song. When I am with
In an undergrad Class many years ago, a Classmate, orthodox Jewish, nineteen, told Us about verbal abuse He’d endured by a Random passerby That morning,
He always wanted Something worth dying for. But He was alive, in Spite of himself. He Wondered if the French Foreign Legion would take him.
I identify with My wobbling dented metal Water bottle now.
You bow before your Lessers, when you are worth more Than ten of them. Stand. (Image of Ogier and Morgana by NC Wyeth)
My bound hands and the Litany of wrongs; was I Your evil twin? The Leering grin of the Executioner above Forces me to think. Our