If nothing more than shadow, then
real things move : he is a writer of
tales, a fairy-tale munchkin with the
hack-habit of two broken arms flailing.
Every morning, some new dateline.
There was a point, for sure, when
even Charles Darwin knew something
was up : can these Galapagos Turtles
beg, or am I just seeing things anew?
If the warrior aims his arrow rightly,
will it then always pierce a heart?
Life left me here, with nothing but
a story to tell, a grand tale to relate.