![]() Postcards From the EdgeA Poem by Ken e Bujold![]() if seems familiar, read authors note![]() Adrift in the terminal light, a day setting sail from the mother porch, I feel
this urge to write auf wiedersehen sayonara
like life is little more than an unexpected
carcass waiting to be skinned, pegged out,
and left to dry overnight … a postcard to
time and place you won’t be returning
to. Though I have heard this is how it
is done I have my doubts. How you could conceive lines, jig
thoughts to a yearning, that does not
require wrestling the succubus to the draw of dawn is a question too deep to fathom. A surrender of self. No time, season is ever free of accounting. Every debt, each
ache however unintentional, needs to be settled. Love or Hate, in war or under flag of
entente, are merely symptoms of an intent, a willingness to cleave the
barnacles from a soul’s keel in-flight tailoring sorrows, rage of age to forecast of intermittent tears.
My poet’s warning to inevitability of I’s awakening to an alternate interpretation -- that the ink we chose to spill is regretfully indelible. Once the pages have been blotted … I see no other way to shade than wading through the dying light
to day’s terminus. Ken e Bujold © 2023 Ken e BujoldAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on September 23, 2023 Last Updated on September 24, 2023 Author![]() Ken e BujoldSomewhere in Ontario, CanadaAboutWriters write, it's what we do. Fish swim, woodpeckers peck... writers scribble (inside and outside the lines). more..Writing
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