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in writing I cast my heart

very much alone

            in a  void

            in a crevasse

 in a labyrinth with a quill

 

castles all around-

            left naked

 without the two buck toll

 to pay the greedy gatekeeper

 at the entrance to my soul

 

            up going Jacobs ladder

 to scale the Kingdom’s wall

         I read a message in the mortar

 of a prior writers fall –

 

 taking focus on the moment

        I glanced from where I came

                     I saw Jesus in the junk-yard

                       Buddha without shame –

 corruption in the structure

        only magnified the pain – what gain?

 

 ascending upward

  to the underground – what left unfound?

  but a virgin in a breadbox

  recording a world

            with no sound –

 

 she motioned – enter

            the apparition fell away

       leaving a mirror and a mantra

       only without prayer

       and a writer rapt in parchment

 ink just laughing everywhere 

 

                                  bkmackenzie

 

                               

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