Or Blind
by Scott Thomas Outlar / December 9th, 2018
Mouthing my prayers to ghosts in the trees
they would dance if the night were not frozen
Only volume twelve can heal me now
but first I must learn how to breathe
and tie my shoes to the stars
at the same time
Toe the line and gasp for pleasure
all these violins sound smashing
Plates served cold with stones and thorns
melancholy as the rock of a lump in my throat
Toe the edge and choke on halos
there is a point at which light begins to burn
Scott Thomas Outlar is a lover of truth and enjoys researching
philosophy, psychology, politics, spirituality, and any other facet of
consciousness in the pursuit of reaching a higher state of vibration.
He also enjoys writing rants, poems, essays, short stories, and
prose-fusion screeds covering such subjects.
Scott Thomas can be reached at
17numa@gmail.com. You can also watch and/or subscribe to his
YouTube Channel.
Read other articles by Scott Thomas, or
visit Scott Thomas's website.
This article was posted on Sunday, December 9th, 2018 at 8:03am and is filed under Poetry.