There are endings. Then there are Endings. Thirty days of silence Fall from the window Of my throat in a Shroud of linen so soiled Not even Blue Can cleanse it. Thirty years of silence Stretch from the ledge Of my heart in a Frozen sea so vast Not even Red Can forge it. I am come awake now, Awash in Indigo A black-eye bruise Where once there was So much laughter. It is the Ending And soon all will be The not quite white Grey Of winter. ©sdrogers 14 october 2014
The opening is 7 October 2014.
If you’re in the area, please go see it for me.
A couple of months ago, Russell Streur, the editor of an online litereary magazine called The Camel Saloon, asked me to do a photographic essay of my native land, the Texas Panhandle. To say I was shocked at the invitation is a great understatement. He made the request at the same time he agreed to publish two of my poems and based only on a single shot I’d taken of a crossroads on Hwy 207.