If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away---Henry David Thoreau

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Empty as a Blank Wall: a poem by Leo Hartshorn


as a blank wall
as stone silence
screaming of nothingness


a sea of strange faces
sideways glances
unfamiliar patterns


throwing fists at the sky
staring at blank walls
feeding on sadness for dinner


dreams slip through cracks
around the corner another corner
frozen possibilities for winter


floating in a dark universe
cut loose from moorings
without an oar or compass


as a blank wall

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