Phantom
I sleep late, then scour the dry woods, searching for answers....
Phantom
I sleep late
then scour the dry woods
searching for answers
for redemption as though
I were looking for
a lost doorway to
another world
watching the heat drain
into the electric sky
with collective unspoken prayers
from the valley,
the riverside,
their despondence rushing by me
on dusky stiff-feathered wings
and the evening wind comes
stealing through
staining the pines a
ghostly blue
I feel myself opening
into the cooling air
I'm a shadowy museum
a corridor stretching back
through a half century
of seeking
a phantom of stories
stumbling across a
monochrome mountainside
You can read more of Sean’s poetry on Arise !
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And discover his cowboy poetry on Bite the Bullet, here:
Sean Downing, poet, musician, teaches high school English and Theater Arts in Pagosa Springs, Colorado. He can often be found in his woodshop, coaxing music from odd scraps of junk, or haunting the trout streams around southwest Colorado. If you see him, don’t tell anyone: they’re probably looking to get an honest day’s work out of him.



