New Poem

fall fresh sun beams

on ceramic features

of carved irony

warm the deadened

impulse to breathe

green grass grows

on the other side

of the world

we desensitize the cells

until growth is abstract

feeling obsolete

we steal false smiles

and so standing

in the mire

of dirt and secrecy

shame skirts the issue

of my two feet

beautiful woman

they say

look at you...

--EAC ('04)

**This is a short composite of words I found in a journal from a few years back. It's not bad, but it's not my favorite.