by Devin Mitchell Durbin27 Jul 2013
I write of things unseen,
I twist the lies of the known.
I use the things that do exist
To tempt the things that do not.
I weave a web of haunted images
That coast a long in phantom skirmishes.
I float along in idle currents
As thought arrives in the Sunday mail
It just don’t happen like this.
What you see is not what you hear
And what you hear is not what you see.
And what you know, and what you are
Are indeed two different things.
As opposite as North and South
Yet just the same.
When the shadow opens up and swallows you
The light inside will still guide you.
And what you see will astound you.