Friday, February 28, 2014


"A dream in which familiar
Faces turn out to belong
To strangers," places waver
Like old-fashioned topo maps
Caught in the wind and the rain,
Fluttering, suddenly gone,
Abandoning the lost soul

Contemplating terrible
Mistakes he may not have made
But has no way of knowing
To be choices, good or bad,
Now that the map has vanished--
That's all the world words leave us,
Hopelessly mysterious.

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