Saturday, April 13, 2019

Canyons of vapor
tin glasses of blue smoke
hills and hacked realms
and pulsating muscles
all bones of a sandy valley
coffee teeth to the shade of a pine
squatting to absorb the thrust of the gravestone

curb's a waffle print on the bicycler's forehead
the grain's hinge of cracked beans
pills denting skin and rearranging
the rows of secondhand stomachs
and electric lined furniture
where we lie down with coiling heat
and get up with curdling ice

coins to chip the laundered landscape
lever benches under an ashen sun
watching shadows reach for satellites
from a chain mail rug.

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