Eye of the Needle Waking from a bed of nails I slowly lift my tattered sails Against the cruel and cutting winds. I march the world in seconds flat And use the ball to hit the bat. I’m free of rights, moralities, and sins. Drawing pictures you can hear, I squeeze a river from a tear And move a mountain breathlessly at will. I stroll atop the estuary In a world so sanguinary, Loving not the death but just the kill. Holding whispers in my palm, I bring the troubled waters calm. From deep within the plum, I pull the pie. I make the fox run from the rabbit, Impossibility my habit, Passing in and
...more
