Updated: Apr 7, 2020
There was too much to witness
A crack in glass like icy
Little fissures on the pond
Cobwebbing outward beneath
A mass of ghastly and true.
It obscured the vision of
The lens preceding in the
Telescopic camera
Reluctantly trained on
Memories, an immoral
Tragedy to have ignored
If a lens cannot find a
Replacement then make the pair
A fractured whole, the imperfect
Behind an imperfection.
Bisecting lines are matched
To admit the tragic
Of the true
Or I Give Myself Very Good Advice, But I Very Seldom Follow It. Echo lives in a basement apartment, walls softened with photos, posters and paintings--but only one of him, out of the way by the linen
Start with putting your ego on a longer leash; you can't let it go entirely--why write if not to tell yourself about yourself--but it mostly just gets in the way of getting anything done. Next, write.
The only mine I've ever known has been hard-fought, hard-won, all bloody knuckles and broken ribs, all set shoulders and subtle sneer-- won't take no for an answer, defiance the only way I know. It's