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passing through the music

between here and there,
there is just this,
and the justice that is just this,
we walk on angry feet sometimes
throw another skeleton into the closet
and kick the teeth of gratitude
with the spare change of our pockets
and this is the way we pass through
the needle of our eye,

and this is the way we spin ourselves
like spiders inside webs dangling
from end to end

the morning dew not yet dropping, the
sun not yet glistening.

Last few words: 
for Era 8/5/ - 9/7/11
Editing stage: 


The first stanza had my heart beating. Thanks for sharing!


J.A. Fisher

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