The poetry road
is a narrow space
running horizontally
between lines of blue,
that mark its passages.

Many get lost along
its loops and curves
and wind up rambling
onward into oblivion.

Others find vast stretches
of the imagination
in which to let their
souls run free.

It is ancient road,
Christ walked there,
much like he did
on the Appian way,
leaving eternal
blessings for all.

Even the Neanderthal
pounded out its timeless
beauty across tightly
stretched, skin surfaces
or etched magnificence in
colored pictographs.
across it's vertical rises.

What traverses there
has a lead foot,
or is fueled
by inkjet or
ball pointed traction.
Skid marks from the mind
tell of all who have
taken it's path.

Many great poets have
traversed its endless destinations,
I have simply hitched a ride
on the contrails of their brilliance,
hoping to find an exit
that eventually will be as
remembered as theirs was.

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