Anne Clark Cane Hill
Here Upon these ghostly shadows Of men and women There are no smiles Singly They mingle With the greyness of the walls And at strange angels They travel on To nowhere Each a nucleus Of sadness and despair Small Or no conversation Passes their cigarette-stained lips They sit The lonely ones Sitting eternally In institutions That have become their eyes That have become their arms Their legs They are empty now Just shells moving back and forth Upon a shore Of some uncharted beach Up steep green hills They linger Like the darknest thoughts That push them selves Into your mind You cannot question them For they will not answer you They Are our deepest fears
