Monday, December 12, 2016

You are training spirals
to go past the body's movements.
And furnishing a sky with bronze escapes.
Grey tempers flare from a locomotive window.
Tear's droplet that is carried
and wound into the steel rails.
Booming pasture and the breast
of bird is the hills.
Shock of reeds from the mouth
of a clown.  Blood on the roots
of a stone temple the mountain
hid.  Hungry women who stride
the wall.  Tickets falling
out of their mouths.

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