by
Jack Roth
The darkness that becomes
The rotten tide that stings my toes
The burning sky
The shards of ground that cut
The slivers of wood that penetrate
The falling hope
The rising sorrow welcomed
The ever changing eyes
The... this... is...
nothing.
2 comments:
this has a calm beauty. a thought mught be remove all the "thes" it loses nothing and gains even more elegance.
great poem - thought provoking...
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