November 3, 2018 at 7:36 pm Leave a comment


as i try to recall
your face, i find
only shadows

on a cave’s irregular wall
but as i struggle
‘gainst my binding chains
(and against my blinding beliefs,

(gifted to me by my peers and seniors)
and finally look back
to see the light’s source
i can find nothing.

perhaps it all
was merely illusion

(“…i would have peace,
and a dry crust…”)
I’m consigning this to ‘voices’ although it’s relatively new. I consider it unlikely that I’ll seek publication other than in this venue. Most likely the only way I’d do that would be if someone were to ask me to do so. I consider the likelihood of that exactly equal to the probability of my winning the lottery. I don’t play it.

Entry filed under: new poetry, poetry. Tags: , .

twilight re-creations

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