poetry & things


Winter’s unsteady weather

cold, cold, hot desert

on this walkabout with severe angles of sun

icy mornings drip into the sweat of day

the impasse of giant stones, the gods have laid

to stop or climb another way

egos travel irretrievable, sink into what is real

here we scale thorny towers of denial

revealed, peeled in layers – to cry, to smile

meanwhile, awakened, shaken

from the sleep of our amnesia

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