This is fifth and last in the series of poems submitted by Jason last month. - poetheart 08/10/02
Sure, tall and beautiful trees-- out of a courtyard scene
extends the fluffy flower on a magic wand's tip.
I mean we've searched for it all our lives-- why shouldn't we look up at them?
I'm dying this second of my life, this split-second I'm falling out of love
with my own spirit, tonight's stars shine in the sky
to make a beautiful point of light. How do I refuse?
When you're dying nature is its own religion--
mercy, it's a bird who stalks an oak tree
shot down to the shallow water and continues to swim
with one wing pointed toward the sky.
by Jason Visconti