Entombed

images (4)

clocks spin & scream

plastic storm hands

clap like death

 

on the horizon, beneath

god, spirals of copper fire

gears & clouds burn as one

 

time reverses, you appear

a faceless mirage

blackbird in a box

lost

same as before

*****

April is National Poetry Month. Lots of folks are writing a poem each day in celebration, but I’m not that productive. Even if you don’t write much, why not give poetry a spin? Turn the TV off, tell the kids to go outside and play, and jot a few words down. One word leads to two leads to eight leads to your inner-thoughts spilled out before you. Catharsis on the page. Create.

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2 thoughts on “Entombed

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