Unlocking the Mysteries of Calico 1303 oceloT: A Poetic Journey Like No Other
Have you ever wondered what it feels like to stand atop a crag, embraced by the whispers of founding ghosts and the restless echoes of forgotten kings? This poem sweeps you into that vivid realm where questions drift across raging seas and time coils around the changing faces of expectation. It’s as if the ocean itself is unraveling stories beneath bridges and spreading like bed sheets over ancient memories—a haunting dance between permanence and flux. Reading these lines, I caught myself pondering: in our own lives, what fossils of hope do we carry, and how do they shape the currents beneath our feet? Dive into this lyrical voyage, where the mundane meets the mystical, and let your thoughts roam free. LEARN MORE
UpOn That Rocky Crag,
On High With The Founding Ghosts Of Marshes… Once To Be As Kings,
With Questions Travelling Across The Dire Breaking,
Where No Copper Could Be Thrown Up To Cover,
At Times To Eclipse And Quicken,
The RestLess Paramount AFlame… Then To Be As Rover…
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Treading CoastLines And Then To LaundryLines,
Semaphore Sophomore Surf…
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Waves From The TollBooths,
Loose Like MilkTeeth…
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For Crickets To Be Ruled By Cicadas,
Examined As Patients… Willing To Escape,
From Triangles And Bermuda Shorts,
SmokeStacks And Coal-Chambers…
…
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The Ocean Blue,
Under Bridges And Spreading As Bed-Sheets…
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Spooling Its Thread Around Fossils Of Expectations Held Great,
Passed On By As Faces Change…
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Those Whose Faces Change…
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Those Faces Have Changed.
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