writing in his own inimitable way, bringing us something to ponder today.
A Veil
Heavy feet assist muck
Drowning heels, which once
spread haste across Rock Glade
And drank from bathwater
tepid, of course, a preference
Sight becomes sunset
Dropping past etchings
of many artists' depictions
Giving me double-visions
even now, in remembrance
Extending appendages
to grasp sanded mug
Which holds the elements required
by both oceans and thirsts
Becomes my weakest attempt
Last words, true to form
Are still written,
If not on pages, at least branded
into the outsetting walls
of my mind
Go check him out.
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