A poem initiated by one of the brainstorm sessions at the Liberties Scribblers meetings. The first line is from another poem.
These trees stand very tall under heaven,
Leavened by years of inching habit.
Rabid life skittering time-lapse pulses
Dulcet beats and ambient arpeggios
The edging tones of an electron nimbus
In this flashing canvas of black and blue.
And soon the tower stands cell by cell…
And I didn’t finish