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Poetry Magnum Opus

Cruel Reality


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Cruel Reality



Cold winds across westward ridges

push me back from northern

windows, sending a shiver through my chest

as real as if standing on rocks exposed

by the loss of trees along the hundreds

of miles shoved up by tectonic forces.


My life is as a tic of the eye in view

of ancient inching of masses of earth

that moved gigantic rock, subject to even

greater brute inevitability. My soft being

cannot relate in time with olde events

existing without emotion or empathy.


Near hills and valleys erode and redirect

in their own time without kinship to my

admiration and artistic wonderings

at such majesty, a one-way mentalism.

Even bare black limbs ignore my angles

of composition as they reach for the sky.


My optimism seems misplaced--

that only the firmament will survive.

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OMG. This moved me profoundly. The last stanza was what this is all about. Perfect. I'm absolutely stunned. my favorite (for now) of your work.


Many many thanks for sharing.


God 'you guys' (west coast sense of 'guys' are damned good.



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Doc, color me abashed, especially from one for whose work I have great admiration. Thank you.

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