a moment’s awareness

i proceed along

a mind’s dense fog

until its thick footprints drop

down down down

onto a clay street below

like being sold short

half-story residing

in half shadows

the rest eaten for breakfast

twelve hours ago

or trapped within a breath

or quietly misunderstood

lingering patiently behind a

never-developed third eye

connected to a heart

across the street

a little dog yaps

in solid hours

chases passersby

he’s always alone, that one

by mary ann blinkhorn

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