Joe Bisicchia


Shape And Form - Poem by Joe Bisicchia

We know ourselves,
the backs of our hands.

Perhaps
we want to know more.

Perhaps at times
we look afar
to where horizon goes jagged
and so much bends
and dissipates to stars.

Perhaps faraway heaven
suspends in our nearsighted vision
and lands close at hand.

Our world spins, yet stays
where we are.


Published in The Inflectionist Review,2015

Topic(s) of this poem: humanity, purpose


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 16, 2016

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 22, 2016


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