eclipse Posted September 4, 2013 Share Posted September 4, 2013 Seasons are like Russian dolls. Clusteringon a cafe roof pigeons warn of winter'scaravan.A homeless man begins feedingthe birds-Zachariah Pearson's plaque shiversinto life.Stories sally from Pearson's tongue.A monument and pond become a drifterspen and well. Night arrives to reveal flungacross the town signs saying please don't nurturethe homeless. This hobo often eats the fireof indifference. A policeman's eyes arehandcuffed he does not see disappeara moon stolen by the twilight.Sparerooms bridging thorns, broken benches worn asduvets-a flock gathers for Sunday mass. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
David W. Parsley Posted September 5, 2013 Share Posted September 5, 2013 Barry, just speaking for myself, I think you have crafted this into a legacy quality piece. The atmosphere and symbolism "gathered" in the those closing lines, sustaining central themes of hypocricy and pervasive indifference; not to mention tightening of diction elsewhere: wow! Sincerely, - Dave Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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