The Lie of the Living

Posted by in A little Burst o Truth, Poems

Soaring in the space above words,
it lowers its view to woods and lake,
circles and sees
and circles and perceives
fish and foul words for food.
Then wing, tail and feather
bend as a warped word descending
in a dive from a great height
to capture the food of innocent words
to crush and twist
with crooked talons,
to return to the place beyond words
and imagination.

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