Poem 054  The cry rose high

01 Sep 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, No Comments.

Poem 054 The cry rose high


The cry rose high, the dimness of the woods, me, me, me
evidence almost reaches the sky, we know it by, hear say, what a day, what a day

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    Usually behind a cup of coffee waiting for the world around me to wake up I entered today’s thoughts about yesterday’s activities into my travel journal. I’m not a writer, so I’ll apologize in advance if I jump around or seem confused. These are just the thoughts of a young man who left his possessions behind and who believes that getting lost is how one finds oneself.

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