the dead man
crisscrossed the country
nothing more to resolve
no intentions other than the
unanticipated & the unforeseen
no matter where he went
he had been there before
passing scenic displays of
mountain ranges
backlighted by a sun slowly
deepening to purple
lending fiery pigments to
infinite expanses of
deep chasms & ravines
now unable to extinguish
the constellations at war
the shadows that fell over the road
hypnotically marked the distance
of the destination
Having given up writing for five years, Jonathan Hine has picked up his pen again out of sheer necessity. Previous poems appeared in Underground Voices, Gutter Eloquence, Nostrovia!, and Thunderclap Magazine. His work has appeared most recently in In Between Hangovers.
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