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The day before winter

A walk, shortened,
in October bluster.
Black branches flailing
shake off leaves to the bonfire of fall.
Escape, they do, in a tumble dry dance.
Carpet the catwalks.
Stick to the shoes.

The future’s opaque.
Carrying, carrying things.
Stumbling towards rest.
Knuckles of anxiousness
push up, under the jawline.

unopened these years.
A pair of neglected sneakers,
remembrance of running,
regret now
they didn’t die a natural death.

This material mountain,
trove of trivialities,
hobbling our limp
to tomorrow.



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, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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