Translucent paper, sham medium,
Neatly hiding the passionate opus.
Graceful arcs coyly sashay,
Rendering carved hateful angles,
The fraud methodically tracing
Each stop along this tour de force.
Tall tales and bedtime stories
Blockbusters and my own memories,
Tainted by hindsight, all a hoax.
For stories have ends,
And a line between, where I trace
A flimsy replica on a faux canvas.
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Year of Meteors [1859-60]”)
Life Immense 