M. Rephun (c) May 12, 2008

He clapped his hands
And the earth spun
He took delight in creation
Like a giant orgasm
The beasts, and the men in loincloths became his playthings
He dove to the low depths, where none could see him
Save the octopi, and the squids with dinner-plate eyes
Now he sits, tornadoes whirling in his beard
Smiling, eyes closed
In his great heart
He feels a pang of regret for the old days
When a magician could run without being looked for
Some day, he thinks, he will have to do it over