Saturday, June 10, 2023

Skies go from blue to blonde to red
the signature becomes an ingrained gesture
yarn molds the precious cargo
to a fine limb
or a doorway in the blown horizon

poles wear wigs of gone swamps
drained remainders in the sun
walls deflect the yearning vine
and blanch it to a dead script

hilltops are pouring the shine
of live leaves and lips
through the shade of another world

wires carry lovers to each other's floors
the shelves carved into a cave
carry the fuel that flew.

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