Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Last of the Adobe Kings


On my way, I pass by
The remnants of another day—

His weathered visage
On the knoll—I see 

He sees me not,
Nor does he look away.


  1. That is a megalithic concentration, writ upon that great stone face.

    He may have other things on his mind. Thirty centuries of falling apart keeps one busy. (Says experience.)

    He may not know you were ever here.

    But we do.

  2. True, true -- if only we could keep our wits while falling apart too!


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