Is And Is
Inside my eyes the world is hollowA place of yellow pages and crumbling covers,
Period hospital beds filled with moaning ghostly memories
I guess at riddles that never had an answer,
Other voices than my own speak for me on fictional stages
Boats sail to ports faraway aircraft hovers
Images of tintype angels gathering clouds and winds of ill
A suspect back turns into something older and darker
Beckoning from a crack in the rock of time
Telling me to follow
It is and is not
Anything.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2021-08-22 at 14:18
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