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Al Drood
Poems
Feb 2018
Tiahuanaco
Thin, cold air,
bright sunlight.
Faint clouds border pale,
empty skies.
Ancient stones lie tumbled.
Vast, silent ruins
of a forgotten age.
An iridescent beetle
scuttles down
through cracked strata.
What cataclysm occurred here?
What distant cosmic dream
became unspeakable
nightmare?
Sit down, fast runner . . .
Written by
Al Drood
M/North Yorkshire
(M/North Yorkshire)
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victoria
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Lawrence Hall
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