The Guffaw Poem by Francie Lynch
The Guffaw
If not born into this confluence
From the cesspool of the waiting room,
Then elsewhere.
My consciousness schools me.
My ego insists.
I am, and was meant to be.
But logic countermands hope.
The fairies and angels are indexed
In the collected works of Aesop.
I am a network of synapses
Bleached into the soil.
Friday, May 12, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: life and death,myths,reincarnation,soul,spirituality
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4/23/2024 3:06:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
