Saturday, November 28, 2015

Atlas Poetica, Number 23, October 2015

Nearly There

I told them I was dead, but not a single person there believed me . . .

the sign said
turn back, road ends here
I waken
from a brief sojourn
in another realm


Somehow, it seems that I am always the last to know . . .

a crow scrawls
asemic messages
between clouds
I could never read
the writing on your walls

Weapons of Mass Destruction

I was incredibly naive to think that you would be my only enemy . . .

how deadly
these red lily beetles
in my garden
after a swift attack
only fallen soldiers

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