Pome for 3:

this is sublime.
          vengeful tides of occasions spent thinking too much have
          sent me spinning out of de-controlled skies again
& this sudden urging urgency to be everyone's knight in used armour
will not penetrate through my outer skin

I cannot sit here anymore
              sit here & watch as the skin turns to
              bones, turns to dust, turns to..

I remember meeting this elderly woman on Bank Street in 2007
& what struck me the most about her was that circumstances never
for a second trampled her smile.. her love of life seemed to contradict
an article I read several weeks later that stated all those without
a home were junkies, one hundred percent of them would take change
offered to them & fetch their fix..
                                                                 I knew that just couldn't be..

there are stories
the woman who gave her son up for adoption.. I think her name was Tricia..
the nineteen-year-old girl, Chloe, sitting by the Rideau Centre..
& the elderly woman, I did not catch her name..but I'm sure someone
out there has called her "Mom" in the past..

yes this is sublime.
the tides are swelling high now
& occasions spent thinking too much about
what's on the horizon are throwing me into
                                       
                                                     deafening spins..