it is the night of refusal
it is the night of refusaldimmed and lost
to the foothills of yesterday
weary and strapped on
like an imprint
testifying to winter dark
as irrevocable
stained stamped and bitten
winter night is relentless
I signal all I will miss
not with a pope's white smoke
but with temporal ignition
rapidly turning days
into grey ashes
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2017-01-06 at 19:47
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Texts |
by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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