Get Your Premium Membership

Lance

dressed in a feather on a fur cap and an oil skin coat the medicine man sits by a grave of old wisdom wearing whisker stubs of light and mystery he sits there like a stone in a dream wthout mirrors his hands circle my sleep and in the center coyotes and bears pad around the rim of darkness his arms rise we see him dimly then not at all

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Shattered Sighs