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Showing posts from February, 2021

But the hands are nothing more than desire

The sun kept shining

a moth flirting with fire

to hear your song flowing through a bird

quiet current

A sharp diamond of light In the middle of the dark glass

Eating a box of tiny animals

Pocket full of splinters

in this scorched grayscape

that which is still becoming

the blue night stood flattened against the window

with their patterns of almost-dragons

Our road has fallen silent, we can hear the trees

white hills...

enter a moon spilled like a melon

Danger and chance are written on the face of things

A Quartz contentment, like a stone

betrayals of falling suns

between dusk and darkness, between fury and peace,

the shadows of glass-faced towers down evening streets

the alphabet of a world gone red.