Inspired by my love for the Blues.
of the delta,
where the melancholic bones
of one hundred years of history are buried,
there is an otherness
which can not be explained.
Not by us who are living
and not by those who are dead.
There's a grumbling beneath the reeds.
A climactic climbing of voices.
A region in a hurry, James Cobb said.
A passageway to the lost self,
and the gain of something else.
Some call it the Blues.
Poetry by Lisa Zaran
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Written on 2006-01-29 at 03:17
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Do Ghost's Trek Through
In the black watersof the delta,
where the melancholic bones
of one hundred years of history are buried,
there is an otherness
which can not be explained.
Not by us who are living
and not by those who are dead.
There's a grumbling beneath the reeds.
A climactic climbing of voices.
A region in a hurry, James Cobb said.
A passageway to the lost self,
and the gain of something else.
Some call it the Blues.
Poetry by Lisa Zaran
Read 1205 times
Written on 2006-01-29 at 03:17
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
GB |
Zoya Zaidi |