Real

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Am I as lifeless as the image

That dances before me,

Within its two-dimensional bonds

Of height and width?

Or does it ask the same questions

As it stares through this portal of glass,

Breathing and thinking in a world

That also offers depth and duration?

Which of us is the corpus

And which the reflection?

Both? Neither?

When we part company,

Who moves first?

And if I smash the glass,

Which of us ceases to exist,

Except in the multitude of shards

That fall to Earth?

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(Images are property of owners and upon reflection, are used here without permission.)

Lost & Profound

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Every once in a while, I like to pretend I am drunk and come up with something profound. These are some examples:

If you want to change the world, you’ll need a lot of diapers!

I don’t live in the past, but I do have a vacation home there

When all is said and done…why don’t people shut up?!

NEVER SURRENDER! Unless the other guy has a gun and bullets…I mean, geesh, you can always start over later

She wore a slinky dress, and proceeded to fall head-over-heels down the stairs

Do you think the first use of the word “typo” was someone incorrectly keying the word “type”?

Never be pedantic…and by pedantic, I mean, being annoying to people by giving too much attention to minor details or by correcting unim…

That which does not kill you, only makes you paranoid that there might be a second one

Insanity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be

If you can’t tell a book by its cover, why’d you put the bloody title there?

Do words ever fail a mute?

I’ve never been a fan of using grate-protected high-speed rotary blades to generate unidirectional currents of air

I find echoes repeat on me

(Image is property of owner and is used without permission until I am profound out)

Highway 401

Snowflakes hit the windshield / Like a swarm of angry bees

And are swept away as quickly / To make room for their brethren.

 

Clouds of frozen heaven / Scurry across the highway;

Riders on chaotic steeds / Dancing in a winter rodeo.

 

The car is buffeted / By the ever-changing winds,

And Zephyr’s howling wolves / Keep back all possible speech.

 

Ahead in the gloom, / Angry red eyes of devils

Waiver to and fro / Across sheets of black ice.

 

They slide into earthly clouds / Following well-worn lines,

The desperate marks of earlier travellers / In the uncertainty of the storm.

 

The normally limitless universe / Is bound on this night

By the visible few feet ahead.

The pathetic beams of headlights / Are white canes for blind drivers

Reaching cautiously into the unknown.