Copyright © 2009 Ernest Bloom.
Set the Way-Back Machine for 1967, Sherman, we're
hoisting sail for Planet San Francisco!
Bless the seasons, bless the beasts and
golden seas and reason, treason! Dip your
quills in late California red and violet sunsets,
and remember a day absorbed in thirsty blotting paper.
Don't forget that the antithesis of love is fear,
not hate! Never hate. It's not too late my
beamish boy, so close your eyes and let's run, let's
run! We're nearly there, if only you can
believe it.
Poetry I will confess is an art form I ordinarily struggle to understand and therefore rarely derive little pleasure from. Then occasionally along comes something that makes me think again. To think I only stopped by as I thought 'What a cool name!'
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