Interrupted greenness laps at a concrete shore.
Squat bushes like smudged thumbprints
ubiquitous ferns with a grace of lowness
No single berry or petal resides
Birds are gone or struck dumb
I am stopped in this nondescript time and place
out of fatigue, tension, and the chewing of unpalatable thoughts
on this long and lonely trip home.
The idiot noise of the highway derby buzzes by.
I regret that I must rejoin it soon.
But I sit and sip some coffee.
Things have a vital brightness here.
Each is a home unto itself.
There is permanence, potential.
The verdant perfume of forgetfulness.
Please…I…tell me what is needed, this day.
So things can be set right.
Please, oh please.
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.