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Oracles

A secret is granted any curb captain listening. To speak rarely and with roots. Blake wears a hardhat, drives a forklift for Metal Products. Whitman collects unemployment in the mail. New words are mined coal. They are the drink from bags, the suicide in jail, and the housekeeper called only by her first name. Keeping pace with a secret at the speed of light is the wisdom felt on crowded subways.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 12/17/2021 12:30:00 PM
Another strong, creative write, Thomas. Secrets personified. Your final 4 lines catch the frenetic pace of modern life, secrets at the speed of light - oracles indeed. Congratulations on your poem of the week highlight. Cheers Brian
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Thomas Wells
Date: 12/17/2021 4:07:00 PM
Thank you again, Brian. I am always somewhat surprised that my poems written so many years ago still hold up. Be well, my friend.
Date: 12/11/2021 9:43:00 AM
Saw this on the weekly featured list and enjoyed it as is usual with your poems. When I read 'Whitman', thought of 1966's Charles Whitman.
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Thomas Wells
Date: 12/11/2021 5:44:00 PM
Charles Whitman, yikes! That's a connection that takes away my breath. I'm glad you enjoyed the poem. Take care, Rob.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things