Tuesday, May 16, 2006


I walk the cornfields at sunset,
to remind my footprint upon earth,
stuck, staring upward
into epiphanies of twilight
as dried weeping bowers
obscure my view of heaven -
their caustic stalks, loosely rustle
the ripe pumpkin autumn breeze
defiantly planting shrivel roots
beneath the dust of my dragging heels
dug deep and clumsy.

I taste their husk,
pondering immanent eclipse
from this pendulum of time
distilled into dying minute particles
of disturbed powder -
tattered remnants of musty hair
swooning against cooling beads
born off my sweaty brow
caught stiff by solemn gusts,
in worship-less truncated memory,
with only the specter of youth cackling ahead,
and suddenly realize,
I walk the cornfields alone for the last time.
@Nick Zegarac 2006 (all rights reserved).


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