Monday, May 3, 2010


No heaven shall refund,
no judgment shall be made; no reward or punishment decreed
no way out, no way in
no call to be answered
only the echos of mad men, the songs of sirens
across barren seas, desert wastelands
through the hot jungle mist, the tiger cries
the horns of cars through city streets sound
desperation crashes against the shores of Xanadu, and resolves into the still calm
of wet sheets
While the river is not the snow of mountains or the sea.

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