To sleep through its entirety,

this world clinging to me,

to pass up its absurdity,

and flash by in obscurity;


A couplet,

a trumpet,

wings ripped from a body;


A prophet,

a puppet,

the line thins out steadily;


To keep time to the marching feet,

trotting before and after me,

to be ignored and put to sleep,

and pass by flailing blindly;


A sunset,

a trinket,

sunk too deep to retrieve;


A target,

a portent,

no skin on my knees.




6 thoughts on “Portentious.

  1. kosmogonic says:

    This is deeply intriguing. In the vein of all great poetry it pulls you in towards what seems like a great secret but then quickly passes you off again into a labyrinth of mystery, allusion, possibility, suggestion, implication, fear, hurt, glory and all that stuff. I love what you do and I hope you know how good you are at it. Wonderful.

    Liked by 1 person

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