F5

'The years teach much which the days never know.'
Ralph Emerson

Half a century has passed,
of my oblivious education:

Valves glowed behind Bakelite,
those wireless invocations,

mail was flap-rattled -
some bore oddity stamps,

wearing cent-priced strangers,
sent from inky confidantes.

My search was inherited,
in spine-bust . . .

Sorry, access to full poetry content is now restricted.

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: