Do you see the water crawling about?
Though tethered to this robot, trailing your walk about, clipped to the ceiling, the sky, a specimen of white, steel tubing, piercing arteries with dilutions. It opposes cells on the walk about - daring to enter the race - wild, free, but assassins all the same. wielding daggers, they shake the pack, shaking cells, kicking laps, running to assure the grave. Scripture pierces to blood and marrow, a singular, soul attachment to our being, our plastic hope, intervening, intravenously, to leak - dripping, slowing, efficaciously - but still, bombing the entrenched opponent. For consensus, we may be outnumbered, though human voice counts for much in deciding a compassionate response to bombarding the fortress. A bevy of solutions, discussion - even roundtable ensues. But all for the best it is calculated via experienced sleep deprivation, doctors of the night - blackness training for vital signs - to watch them treading water, swimming, reaching - another day of life outside the grave. © 2013 Larry Ingram
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Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture. Categories
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