by Mike Foldes
man of furrowed brow
eyes set in cups so deep
they’re hard to read
even in the best light.
man of furrowed brow,
stone cold, yet living,
high above the rest,
a memory in flight.
scattering clouds,
where are they now,
calumny and silence,
smoke and mirrors.
how it is that a face
carved in stone set
on a pedestal of blocks
can explain the human condition.
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