The song of the night of Winter Leaves

SURVEILLANCE, CRIME & PHILOSOPHY & CULTURE,

Burning as fears to melt hardened hearts with an ice scraper,
buried in 10 feet of snow,
the azalea tuber like white and yellow butter-flies cascade into smoky evening noon,
under the thick avenue of beloved memories, you will find your delightful ghost
not to haunt you behind every corner and shadow, but will fill you with mirth and laughter
of the gods, only if you allow it, be free choice of faith and reason.
Toklien built a world bridge, only if you can distinguishe the Queen of Diamonds, and
a suicidal deuce, in which numbers are for counting, and all Bets are off, as Yogi Berra
would say.

RSY Kim