Non sense fills void
better than anything else

and foreshadows
the outcome

No sense wrestling
these sounds down

to pale patois
of pretty pushes

when the page
is a sieve catching

eyes and what falls
from them

eyes emptied
heart emptied

shaken out like a trash can
On Tuesday

I read
Oak leaves

Under my porch light
they tell me no one has left

recently

I tell them
no one is here

anymore
to leave


Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis