lone ranger

Lone Ranger

 

 

Three days are gone, alone in my cabin

Not a word is written in these rooms of silence

Writing in a vacuum does not behoove me.

I need an input someone with thoughts of their own.

Reflecting my own thoughts in the mirror

Are unbreakable cycles like a troll under a bridge

That can no longer see the difference between a goat or sheep.

Starve it does not being able to catch rainbow trouts

As laziness seeps into his bones.

Sore is my head from trying to burst out of this encircling

Of the stale, fearful of the new, I must read more,

Work by writers I don’t care for, but has something

Different to say or a new twist of words. I’ve tended to

Read too much, Hemingway.

◄ the Greek Poet

Sunday morning somewhere ►

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