poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

The eighth fellow
“the eighth fellow” is what she said before disappearing she was never seen again the store clerk was not what he seemed to be but I wasn’t there to see it - not in a legal sense it was her metamorphosis that prevented them from finding her though they searched for years across the globe I never lost sight of her however many faces she presented and watched their anguish as the winters passed and hope faded the seven were precursors I was the witness she had said something but didn’t finish her sentence walking away into the water closet I was dissatisfied but she wouldn’t be confronted it was an utterance that had no place in this world today I alone remain with an account obscure, incomprehensible like most of our human experience that cannot easily be conveyed on my deathbed he came to me the eighth fellow, to clarify by then I had lost my hearing and my cares for the world and its riddles his words were only heard by the attendant nurse to whom they meant nothing 30 X 2019
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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