Wednesday, November 23, 2005


Monday, November 21, 20051:36:22 AM
I wrote this poem months back…last year, if I recall correctly:

She couldn’t hear anything
When words kept blowing
Looking up, far at Orion
And the signs of neon
Hearing nothing but the wind,
Perhaps the calling.
“Was it a calling?”, she wondered.
After all, her hiking hindered.
Then the road led nowhere,
Back and forth somewhere,
In-between the mud and snow.
All but stopped,
Her compass dropped,
And she broke into a laughter.

I named it Exodus. Strong name for an otherwise naïve non-poem, I must say.


The Absolutist said...

i'm the worst poem-critic in the visible universe and all the other parallel ones, so i wont comment.

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