Monday, January 14, 2019

Honey on tar curves
a cracked lens in the peaks of the hills
swamp to the roots of wooden walls
crinkled hair on quartz
shining a black elbow;
triangle chunks of soil
bleeding tusk light.

The lid on things worn and discarded
wearing thin beneath the planetary tide.
Forked rivers cold slashing the sand blankets
towering leafy limbs and rock waste
cones and vegetable twine
vinegar eyes watching through
the creased and wrinkled floorboards.

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