By James D. Casey IV

Full eighteen hundred years
This place
Has its undertone
As do my words
 
A dark young pine
In the middle of a cemetery
 
He calls out
Telling me to play on
 
So I do
 
Over the levee
I find solitude
A place of forgotten morning
 
I miss the dawn
Only met her once
 
It was winter
I could see my breath
Hear the river’s veins
Through the newborn ice
 
She called to me
I jumped in
Now my ghost lives on
James D. Casey IV is a southern poet with roots in Louisiana & Mississippi that  currently resides in Illinois with his Muse, their goofy dog, and two black cats. He has authored three books of poetry: Metaphorically Esoteric, Dark Days Inside the Light While Drunk on Wine, and Tin Foil Hats & Hadacol Coins. His work has also been published in print and online by several lit mags and small press venues including Triadæ Magazine, Pink Litter, In Between Hangovers, Indiana Voice Journal, Beatnik Cowboy, Dissident Voice, Scarlet Leaf Review, Horror Sleaze Trash, Zombie Logic Review, Tuck Magazine, Outlaw Poetry, and many others. Mr. Casey’s books and other projects can be found on his WordPress site: 

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