Far Shore

when nothing else was going right and the shadows seemed to descend on everything I turned into a kind of nothing a perched nothing collecting voids a depressed archaeologist rummaging dust from dark tombs already looted and so I went to that far shore by the violent sea of that distant shore feeding on what there was: the bittersweet mornings without sun the black clouds falling apart on the horizon the hissing sound of sand moving in the insane wind since then I'm ceasing to be human using minimal doses of complaisance to deal with the bland memories and now it's just indifference just indifference is what i have to offer for the days that passed for the days that still insist on arriving

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L Milton Hankins

Date: 6/14/2022 3:07:00 PM

Introspective, as I mentioned in a recent poem. Going outside of your norm, your comfort zone, only to find yourself saddled with indifference and feeling it is all you have to offer. Good writing, Marco.

Marco Chies
Date: 6/14/2022 3:38:00 PM

I appreciate your words, my friend. This, of course, is a poem of abandonment and sadness, the realization that we can be indifferent to everything. You often expect a different reaction to problems: anger, bitterness, a desire for revenge, but indifference is worse, I think...