How Ideas Are Formed 2





Here they come, the blind bats

shrieking from Plato’s  shadowy cave

nails  screeching on blackboard

black umbrella shards 

zigzagging  downwind 

into the embers of a dying sunset

a late quartet of notes by a deaf composer

flung into the void

tossed into the unresponsive void

which only they can hear.

 

 

 

 

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