Thursday, November 14, 2019

The salted universe
overturned and still wanting.

Streamers wafting from
the fingers that have now

Hills of dewstruck bushes
flashing at unguarded sky
the peaks of fertile water.

Heaps of jagged branches
pointing to the awaited twilight.

The blown air
and unmoved scenery
colliding with scepter mind.

Thrones in a ring
of articulate blood
returning the connected wind.

Lawns of receptive meat
twitching messages
to a satellite's
proud buttocks.

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