Friday, March 05, 2021

Birds, blue-ribbon ways
steer me far
from the golden edge.

Fringe fences rotting into swampland
disc lights in the invaded sky.

Blue night in frills and thighs
commanding my blood to service.
Dark lips finding
what was bone and skeleton's verse,
high descending plumes
some asteroid glory
or comet fiend
finding love in fire.

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