FORECLOSED MINDS by Hal Bogotch

{my poem:  originally published at BACKROOMLIVE.wordpress.com on Feb. 14, 2011}

FORECLOSED MINDS

Press words out
through cardiac tissue
dip into the well of compassion

wine stain plume
spreading indifference
almost as if

a hand crank
could be attached
to virtual electronic wanderlust

bank on it
know the truth
in the negative balance

ply the Pennsylvania Dutch
for secrets
of mixing mechanical metaphors

I tried to learn the steps
before I forgot myself
and danced.

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