It's really darker than it reads -
the publishers of pedantic froth -
a mark upon the soul, but nicely skirting
the heart, mine of damage and reports
for insurance purposes.
Then life isn't as it says, the remarkable
difference, the divergence of rivers taken
to be what you really mean, because you
said it was reminiscent of tackle and
hooks and daggers.
Life support, but not for the trail, not for
imbibing in where we can go, in recovering
sight for the blind, touch, feeling as though
it really matters where we end up,
the street that kicks up dust.
As we sidle about the last street, walking
toward doom or a somewhat different
perspective on stones plotted nicely in
advance or our demise.
As though we would win this battle nicely
© 2016 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.