on the outside, looking in
Somehow
the wrongness is taking hold once more,
thumbing its snotty nose at bright inclusion.
It hugs,
with a constrictor’s singleness of purpose.
I see the willows in the warm June breeze.
I know this is beautiful.
You have told me.
I have seen,
on the other side.
But now I look, through a glass, darkly.
I press upon the clear walls.
The seed diabolic grows again,
its stinkflower my silent sidekick.
Come to me. Come to me now.
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Lee Dunn View All
Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.
