Dead Books
Eventually
the past moves offshore
and memories blear
in the sad vermilion of history
like a dream
you almost remember
as it passes by
the legacy of besmirched heroes
covered in hearsay’s
ancient dirt
transmogrified
in dead books
unsung forgotten tongues
tarred
feathered
and on the run
in a country where
Emerson is a foreign language
no one speaks anymore.
About the Author: Stew Jorgenson is a part-time wordsmith who has more words than he knows what to do with. Sometimes he uses the extras for poetry, celestial navigation, or target practice. He has worked on farms, fishing boats, and in factories. He’s skilled at mistakes, guilty by association, and suffers from occasional bouts of inspiration. He is working on a cure.
More by Stew Jorgenson:
As It Ought To Be 