Thursday, January 05, 2006

Taking One Out of Rotation

For the time being, this poem will take a sabbatical from traveling to lit. mag. contests in order to reside on this website.


Limbo has no boundaries,
Which leaves us with no choice
But to run it.
The plain is lit behind us,
As always, brings regret
Of not running faster before.
I, effusive, rash,
Focus on the ground, the sky,
For straight ahead it's dim
And my eyes play tricks on me:
Certain, uncertain.
That's the trick
Of limbo, not seeing the end.
Last time we came here
My dreams knocked
Back and forth,
Like empty shuttles
With no echo.
When I ran through them
They were hard like hail,
And I could not see you.

- C. Bronco

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