Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Strange land

Coming home from high lakes
shores where we waded motionless

in the breeze from volcanoes, bubbling
mud, a boiling lake

where I loved life so much I
worried every hour of losing it

I wander here to the land of
man-made things

moss from still ponds
twigs still stuck on my shoe

here where throngs frenzied with goals
clog the streets, their constant motion

drugging the air

where every place I go
too many got there first

where I sleep pinched with fever
though the moon shines here

big and white

too.





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