© 2017 Steve King
All rights reserved
The blind view
and that hot rain—
each new storm
a sudden death,
soon again.
The recalculation
of every old move:
merely an echo,
a hard refrain.
The world will turn.
I cannot say
where true horizons fall.
Light to night,
night upon light,
every age must scribe its own,
though
some stand everywhere alone.A new poem for Friday 55 with Joy Jones
http://versiscape-lifesentences.blogspot.com/
Steve, this is a window into a shuttered world, a fork of lightning in the dark--the mood is almost oppressively dense, like that feeling of impending thunder on a breathlessly hot day, yet there is an undercurrent of cool air that stirs within it--perhaps it's the hope that there is always more than we can know...wonderfully vivid and skillful work with the metaphor here, Steve--we live in a time of storms that are not lessened one bit by the fact we see them coming. Thanks for playing and helping me to have a kickass weekend--and the same to you, my friend.
ReplyDeleteA glimpse into the thing we currently call living. Storms and sighs and loneliness (if we let it).
ReplyDelete