lacustrine, the air . . . . 

by Gerrit Lansing

          Edgy words, a discipline. The poor, with us always. Us ?  We sought the
pale intensities.
          Sunny the afternoon pasture, I love you, bookish words, temptation even


          no method. The man said methodology. But the madness ? Our warriors are
singing as they go, los guerreros.   Of this and that the beaches are full, not so
obvious the eyes of cruising
men with frisky dogs.


          Oracles are everywhere Milo said, they swarm to make a witty history.
Love triangles swirling in the sand. Intransitive, what means a cloudy day ?

          Swallowing the old sun rises anew and we were holding hands in the glow
of our pooling joy.

          I pulled the card of the day and it was Valor.