September 2009 PresentMagazine.com Poets-in-Residence
Celebrating the Written Word
Oval Storms In September
And still they come.
Where land and sky converge
an original thinker
with eyes the color of olives
search cloud ravaged heavens
for dark stars
only to find a nocturnal ghost
who rolls and tumbles in a small bed.
Wary of 2 fisted heart agreements
yet admires what negative space surrounds
that other blankness
of the unknown takes form
like a watch with broken arms
that point to a significant event
occuring at a precise moment.
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