Ghosts in the SOUND
Sirens violence;
A horsehair bow.
Elegant trunk tusks
playing delightful scherzo.
Swaying birch trees
conducting symphonies.
Invisible to the radio.
Though they all play a part...
None are there to HEAR IT.
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Yeti Noone
poet, mystic. Wrote it but somehow... missed it. Dark prose is somewhat of an artform of mine. Each portrait is akin to a dark meditation on the human condition/consciousness or lack thereof.
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