Niagara River

Solitude forgot its wallet

Not bothering with conversation, solitude sees if its diaries float

Each letter of solitude was offered a role in a comic book movie

Solitude of a few shirts, and feet covered in the leather of old shoes

Solitude of waste basket prose… the emptiness of a flame

The noise sweeps the heart

November astronauts are solitude

The universe is a tee shirt looking for a ride home, solitude of a 

And lonesome like a cartoon coyote

But what of the falling leaves?

It’s impossible to count them all. All the leaves. But what if 
    counting had an out of body experience? Took LSD, and 
    began licking its Zen palms?  

In conclusion
Almost night now 
The hurry of pillows and the dot that is the moon

The gulls are
Mugs restaurant-white
Dropped along the shores of one of the Great Lakes
Across the river from Canada

13 thoughts on “Niagara River

      1. You are welcome Bob. I am very interested in the sound of poetry and whether it supports the sense. I read it all aloud, much to the annoyance of those that share my abode (except the dog). I don’t want to be too effusive, but that vowel, man oh man, a masterstroke.


        Liked by 1 person

      2. OK- just read it again, the sonics throughout. Shit man! Look at the first line, the hard stop at “wallet” forces a long pause, a point of reflection. what could this mean. You do this everywhere in this piece, even in the long slur at “tee shirt”. In all seriousness this piece stands as an example of the power of free verse.


        Liked by 1 person

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