Shape And Form - Poem by Joe Bisicchia
We know ourselves,
the backs of our hands.
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
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