Coming soon: A poem. Like, a real, serious poem, rough draft, revision and final. I feel pretty good about my draft...
Question:How do I make post?Anyway - here's a little snippet of what's on my blog. Come check it out, yo.--------------Guiding LightThe trees sway in invisible windAnd the starlight casts no shadows.The darkness moves - And shapes - And a black cat creeps warily from cover.The coyote howls in mourning.Shadowed shapes scatterFrom patches of nothing in the dirt.Muffled shoutsWhere shore meets shine - Water shies from the coast,afraid.The beacon is off.The sea of blackness above flickersAs waves reflect light from nowhere;The sun’s reflection is missing.Armed statues wait in the alleyarms forward and pointed,all at one another like accusing fingerspale starlight on their brows.All hail – and stopStare and sweat as wild beadsscan painfully slow, waitingwatching your every lack of move;brown bag fever glowing white.The beacon is offAnd who to guide us?Where to steady our compassIn the shining sea of the night?The beacon is off.
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Coming soon: A poem. Like, a real, serious poem, rough draft, revision and final. I feel pretty good about my draft...
Question:
How do I make post?
Anyway - here's a little snippet of what's on my blog. Come check it out, yo.
--------------
Guiding Light
The trees sway in invisible wind
And the starlight casts no shadows.
The darkness moves -
And shapes -
And a black cat creeps warily from cover.
The coyote howls in mourning.
Shadowed shapes scatter
From patches of nothing in the dirt.
Muffled shouts
Where shore meets shine -
Water shies from the coast,
afraid.
The beacon is off.
The sea of blackness above flickers
As waves reflect light from nowhere;
The sun’s reflection is missing.
Armed statues wait in the alley
arms forward and pointed,
all at one another like accusing fingers
pale starlight on their brows.
All hail – and stop
Stare and sweat as wild beads
scan painfully slow, waiting
watching your every lack of move;
brown bag fever glowing white.
The beacon is off
And who to guide us?
Where to steady our compass
In the shining sea of the night?
The beacon is off.
Post a Comment