Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Poem: Reality






This is real,
this rough-barked,
longstanding tree.

This true-as-love
blue sky above me-
this is real.

The slick head
and wrinkled toes
of a newborn,            

the paper-skinned,
shaking hand of
the dying,
 
the screaming agony
of a life blown apart-
These are real.

Everything else is
smoke and fog.

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