shot glass
title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Mike Dillon


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Autumn

As your dory nears the steep falls
your long journey edges towards an old song
that tells of a broken, then healed life.

Any breath, now, the song will come to you
before the dory plunges into the final clarity
beyond the bog holes of speech.

And only now do you see: the song has no name.
The word Love is already taken.
And there is no other that will do. Especially at the end.