Today
By Randall Rogers

 

Doubt like
certainty unwound
aggrandizement
thought like
tinkling diamonds
laid mirth
along a natural
silence
resounding
the wide misty valley
echoes as calls
to forgotten sorrow
remembered
once more to
whisper
“It’s me again,”
in full court depression.

 

Drunk

In stopping
so easily started
tenuous
threadbare
quarter-man
trembling
substance loss
redeems
leaps and bounds
strangling
sobriety
in a drink.

 

Randall Rogers is a Midwest writer from Rapid City, South Dakota, U.S. He lives virtually alone with his wife and two armadillo(s). He likes Patrick Henry and John Locke.