DEEPENING SHADES
Here we are, still
dreaming the possible,
dragging our imminent
corpses behind us.
A tree (like an
upside down finger)
thrusts itself upward
in awkward protest.
A blind man's song
elopes with the past
(riding on memory
as on a horse
that knew the way),
reaches us at last.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
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