Diurnally

Out there, it’s pure death;
not white as this
first November snow, but as cold
and disappearing:
as the breath which impels me

On my way before breaking,
flesh and bones;
into the single spot of silence,
that we feel:
weighs us down as we move upward, equally

©Dean Baker

BOOK SALE – https://deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com/2021/10/31/books-2-99-e-books-paperbacks-7-99-8-99/

https://www.amazon.com/Dean-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

latest e-books https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YBJTJFP Shadow Boxing The Infinite

https://https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YBDFWGB Phantoms Of The Northern Forests

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0917TF1K9 Steel Butterflies

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08ZJLWZ13 The New Poetry Hotel

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s