Sound – A Poem

The sounds are still, Silent now in the wake of madness. The crowds came through like locusts, Digesting everything in their path as Huge earthmovers rearrange landscape. The air is frigid and wet, an arthritic's nightmare. Paper detritus blows in the breeze, a dance without music. The anniversary has passed, the revelers gone home, Their legacy filling the large garbage trucks That wil...
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Tue Cent Twosday: Bird, a Poem

Image from Wikimedia Commons, Creative Commons free license.Bird.I see you, bird. Black feathers. Shiny.Beak. Black beak like jet, hard and grooved along the length.It’s longer than I expected. Long and sharp.“Once there was food here.” Tatiana Tolstaya.The forest. Mass graves, running for miles, between trees.I like trees. I don’t feel death when I’m in the trees.Death is probably there, I...
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Lines of Lights – A Poem

Lines of Lights Moving at speed past the window, reverse parallax. Facing backward on the train, the lights receded. Facing backward on the train is a title. A good title for a memory, even. Metaphoric. Like Benjamin Button, living backwards to get forwards. When everyone is walking in the other direction, sit down and get still Follow the still, small voice insight and listen. What doe...
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