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the Glass family,
as Salinger wrote
about them - do you
know them yet? for
surely you will if
you're in love with
the words.

alone, and along with
glass that must pass
(somewhat slowly surely)
through the river of time
(ala H. Hesse) so that the
sharp edges are worn down,
the lack of gravity up here
helps the process proceed -
relativity extremes -
time stretched
and bent back;
a wrinkle in
time if you will.
up here i see
so clearly.

and there's not much glass left,
but does it ever leave?
completely? in
either case
the case
we keep
it in
while
the water
wears down
the edges
gradually
with time,
it's some-
what safe.

left and leaving,
my poetry website
is still breathing,
hidden here in a new
body - a new domain -
4/4 time, whatever wonderful thing
that that might mean and i mean
to say and think and do and
prove and provide and sigh
and not rely, but ally
with...

without...

with...

within...

without...

with (ewe) again in
another atmosphere
not smothering, or able
to complete the poem -
hot air balloons descend
on the city in large numbers
and the people point and look
and say, but they don't see the
balloons in the same way perhaps
as those who see it poetic-ally -

coming to his poet senses,
before it's toooooooooooooooo
late.