12 days in the wilderness
what solitude hath brought…
a paltry sum of windy words
silly abstractions with the scent of turds
wandering the cedar dotted mesas,
once a vast and dreamy sea
inspired nothing in the verbosity of me
now home from the night walks
the ghostly winds that had so much to say
yet if I heard them, the words are hiding
in some wavy web of cells, firing blanks
when I aim at the blissfully blank page
who am I
to defile this space,
with puerile pecking
when the white wisdom of the ages
eyeless, stares at me
admonishing me
that words can
beguile the shrewdest master
by convincing him
they do not exist
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
12 days in the wilderness
what solitude hath brought…
a paltry sum of windy words
silly abstractions with the scent of turds
wandering the cedar dotted mesas,
once a vast and dreamy sea
inspired nothing in the verbosity of me
now home from the night walks
the ghostly winds that had so much to say
yet if I heard them, the words are hiding
in some wavy web of cells, firing blanks
when I aim at the blissfully blank page
who am I
to defile this space,
with puerile pecking
when the white wisdom of the ages
eyeless, stares at me
admonishing me
that words can
beguile the shrewdest master
by convincing him
they do not exist
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