Thursday, January 06, 2005
APPALACHIAN SONG
I want to be as insignificant
as the death of anonymous,
a small unnamed crater
on the invisible moon,
a footprint slowly filling with water
on a path that just peters out.
I heard an old soldier say
"We were lavish with blood in those days."
Lord, I'm so empty I could float.
(198?/2005)
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