Resurrection of Time Now Dead By A Poet Going Blind, 69
Duane Locke
Today I felt as if I were alone without a cell phone
In a car stalled on a road that bordered on west Canada.
There was snow on the road, snow on the hood.
There was snow behind, one each side a white forest.
I scraped the snow off the road sign, the sign, blank,
Letters faded away long ago, never repainted.
I had headed for the same destination many times,
But this time I must have a mistake, made a wrong turn.
I had entered the unfamiliar whatever the unfamiliar was.
I felt through a mistake I had found what I was looking for.
A snow owl came out of the white forest, swooped
Over my head, left his shadow on my hands.
I held this darkness in my hands,
This darkness was loving and warm.
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