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