poetry

tall canyons

I took a walk
through the bodies today
each and all
bathed in the gray of days
some still moaning
a few breathing
a last heavy sigh
and there beckoned
above the iniquitous din
a sparse-green hill
just ahead, tho soon crested
dipping next, into another shallow
another mud-bowl hollow
filled and writhing
with yet another, following
and another, after–
no majestic mountain peaks
piercing the horizon
and no tall canyons
in which to fall

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Eric

I've come to write.

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