Line Lesson [poem]
Bathed in the silent swathe of
illness one
and all undone or smothered, the man
who juggles letters on his fingertips
discovers that he scrapes the ground to
sell one sin
without regretting where he’s been
and all the clefts he’s hidden in
With stealth he wanders far with
linen soles
on shoes which drolly seem bizarre
to trample on the mountain range he
spans entranced and hampered by a
lesion lens
which, perching on his sacred face,
interprets words in uppercase
Fazed by an all-embracing
oneness ill
defined and understood within
the crude corrupting confines which he
finds and asks the question: what is one
less one. Nil
is the only answer starkly given
throughout the life in which he’s striven
So now he writes indelibly
with desolation’s haunting smile.
The jumbled letters hurled with fury
high into the stifling air were spelled:
SOME LEARNING STYLE
© 2012, Alan Morrison
The Naked Troubadour 