Author: Carl Setzer

​Poetry has mystery 

There’s as much in the blank space

As the page’s words

​Rage is not my path 

Refusing fear’s siren call 

Untied from the mast 

​Brutality’s path

Corroded bonds between us 

Winter’s icy air

​We love our Fridays

The great allure of freedom

Altogether brief 

​Flurry never stops 

I can’t read all the email 

So much deletion

​And so this thing ends

This long weekend without work

Varied normalcy

The heart collapses

Crushing within solitude

Strong dust emerges