IMAGE OF EARTH AND QUILL

Guest Poet K. Lindstrom



Different Passing

Sense,
discourse,
longing for an answer.
A question long forgotten.
My eternal drudgery.
Minds decayed,
no sense of this.
This, what this may be.
I have few.
Faculties that provide reason,
the illusion of reality,
that today I am me.
Soul is dead,
I am dead,
I see no reason.


May, 1999


K. Lindstrom's Questions:

I really just want to know all you folks are willing to tell me.

Does this make sense?

Is it clear?

Does it sound good?

Is it choppy or something else?

Thank you.






The Albany Poetry Workshop