Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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He bore witness to a world
that would not listen
warning fell on deaf ears
dark clouds, not observed
loud party oblivion of senses.


His tower was a writing desk
his words flew, wind lifted
autumn leaves, colored
dying shadows, ominous
prosody of poetics sere
chaotic death silhouettes.


Ash darkened turbulent sky
wind whirled world separated
stripped away, directions lost
alienated transit of initiative
beat broken silence disturbed
troubled Amps dampened hope.


Tangential alignments re-orient
vision, incompleteness no longer
hidden, new angle entryway
opens unknown vistas
trees shelter meditation
bring the passing of new options.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. December 31, 2014