Expedition Lost

What
Was or is
Then

Sometimes I feel
Walking down Broadway or
Delta or whatever street is snow-painted that
I am walking toward the great
Glacial chimney amongst those great
Cedar trees, burdened graciously
With short-torch and wanderlust,
Shane following nearby doubting my
Judgement, cursing the love-touch of wind,
Flurries falling fastidiously and this
Feels real, for the first time-
Inherently magnificent, entirely
Unsure if I am here or actually
There or somewhere between,

The difference means very little

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Author: Montana Svoboda

I'm a genderless poet currently living in Central Michigan where I attend college for Environmental Science and English. Nature's some cool shit, frisbee's a neat activity, fountain pens are best pens, Latakia for life, coffee and tea keep these gears turning.

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