He lined them up: skyscrapers
atop a sand dune belly
and knew the rise and fall
of inhalation would soon still.

Unbutton that shirt Frank, no need
to splatter the image of purity,
load the lead into chambers;
those narrow tunnels to the other side
of sanity.

Why three Frank? You and two demons?
One not enough to end the misery?

We read you now, you know, dusty words
of pain, intrigued with your madness or perhaps
our madness verified through your lens.

So close, it is; normal thought, shoulder to shoulder
stuffed tight into strait jackets.

Pull the trigger rapid, we’ll carry the flag dropped,
maybe not as high or cloudy as your message, but it will wave
in a breeze you now shun, there’s so much more to say,
so much more to conquer.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Tuesday, November 29, 2022 at 2:09:56 AM UTC, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> He lined them up: skyscrapers
> atop a sand dune belly
> and knew the rise and fall
> of inhalation would soon still.
>
> Unbutton that shirt Frank, no need
> to splatter the image of purity,
> load the lead into chambers;
> those narrow tunnels to the other side
> of sanity.
>
> Why three Frank? You and two demons?
> One not enough to end the misery?
>
> We read you now, you know, dusty words
> of pain, intrigued with your madness or perhaps
> our madness verified through your lens.
>
> So close, it is; normal thought, shoulder to shoulder
> stuffed tight into strait jackets.
>
> Pull the trigger rapid, we’ll carry the flag dropped,
> maybe not as high or cloudy as your message, but it will wave
> in a breeze you now shun, there’s so much more to say,
> so much more to conquer.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

We like your poem, but should the title instead be "Frank Stanford?"