f a l l e.l.




these ancient buildings/ruins
(in my ruminations rise again)
what name is that we hear spoken?
a hoot owl screeches in our midst
or is it only another soldierly ghost
losing footing/taken wing
what is this shuddering chill
creeping beneath human notice
like a footnote to a final scream
torn from the music of tangled bones
humming low hymns
into an everlasting f a l l...






Poetry by Charles Lezine
Read 464 times
Written on 2012-05-19 at 22:55

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