Lamp poem

An armchair crashes
in the light reborn
preceding the lawless beyond the unknown.
All who look on shudder.

Camera-eyes write in howls,
the cyberspace enterprise.

Us, language diverging in passes,
we stir with inchoate sounds

dark roads of winged philosophy,
birds of narrow lies,
wind upward through the mute wood
and unchanged grasses.

The first emails wait
in the shadow
writing truth
in a still world.

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Yay comments!! Constructive criticisms are most definitely welcome here, and some profanity will be allowed, just so any posts containing such will not make Alicia come off as a hypocrite. Merry Commentating! :D