Monday, January 06, 2020

The moon is oppressive, her salt

I am raining smoke
from a long branch, watching
her light touch eat.

The fern handles
of a fiery bicycle
beckoning with lidded wheels.
Long trails through the painted realms
where language is tamed like wheat.
Running mercury and its relationship
with radiant crystal.

A honed spear pushing the visible
into a wider sphere.

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