Sunday, February 15, 2015

Were-with-all (poem)

A trip, a realm, a parallel dimension.
Climb up east, traverse in west,
A monkey and a vixen.

The werewolf prowls, yet never scowls his prey,
instead they scope giant's faces, moonlit or in day.

Beauty and beast, beast of beauty; strong compassionate throng.
Their skipping ascension without reprehension: sure as day is long.

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