Asking the Wind
How many roads led to this precipice? Dylan told us where to look for answers. I stand on the sea-whipped cliff, testing air, Medusa hair holding the sky aloft Eyes scan horizons for the surrendering dove as boots breach borders in mid-winter snow The Pale Moth flexes red wings, thrumming menace, crumbling peace like a biscuit. The wind squalls, heavy with questions In another hemisphere, the land down under blazes 50c and lets a virus rip. The PM has no eyes, no ears. Who hears the suffocating cries, the planetary reverberations, the eroding loss? How many deaths will satisfy the gods? The hot wind squalls, heavy with questions I summon the Tambourine Man to quell the drums of war. But answers blow lonely in the wind. Poetry Showcase from Gayle J. Greenlea 2 poems by Gayle J. Greenlea about Going to Space (anniversary of the moonwalk) A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Gayle J Greenlea New poems from Gayle J. Greenlea : “Grey” & “Mapping the Long Haul”
Fevers of the Mind 
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