The Blues Are All The Same - Poem by Lisa Zaran
~for Jackson C. Frank
It seems almost too far fetched really,
too difficult to believe.
This unassuming moon shining like a copper plate.
These milkcrate blues.
This soft trellis of sound
wobbling through the wind
as if pouring out from the windows
of some lonely house on the hill.
How beautiful it is,
the ghost of your voice
haunting this empty valley.
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