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Word Hole
"moonlight on the snow slips in sideways
dreamlike
a dollhouse in a boxcar rolling south,
wandering too long, the cold saddens"
I am talking to myself, but the cats are sane
I huddle under 60 watts of halo
like a cop interrogation of the 50's
and the world as we know it
disappears into
the cropped
dark
edge
word games begin
re-assembling lies
deep I slide (so the scenario goes)
cursing my way downward
spitting torches from a gin soaked cigar
(* note: find a new Charlton Heston)
but, this is no rabbit hole child's play
a master spelunker, I am
at home on the
hard
rock
bottom
I wriggle on my belly
scrawling cave art
and wisdom
in pitch, tar
and typewriter ribbon
a harrowing pilgrimage
I barely survive
but in the end
fame, fortune,
and the fabulous
await
a gorgeous
Hollywood-styled
arising
my cats aren't buying a word of this either
they're asking for the left-over scrambled eggs
About This Poem
Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft
Comments
Roscoe Lane
10 years 7 months ago
I like.
I like this a lot, the images created with these lines are terrific. Regards Roscoe...
brittle light
10 years 7 months ago
thanks Roscoe
thanks Roscoe
I was pleased with this, and its images as well.
a little quirky, but so am I
later,
themoonman
10 years 7 months ago
Hi Al,
Took me with you, loved the journey!
Great title by the way, so fitting.
thank you for sharing.
regards,
Richard
brittle light
10 years 7 months ago
Hey, Richard
thanks
glad to hear from you. appreciate your reaction
sincerely,