Sunday, June 28, 2015

Leaving

There was no house for me to leave
    my structures...maybe.. and sudden light
Nazca lines on fantasy maps, rabbit tracks
    to caves of ice, a winter's hut
guiding me, the Fates of melting ice
    or fire searing a July day.
The reflected I, a blue shadow dance
    yet there, under that world
        something winged
spinning seeds up through an evening
    perfect each in vertiginous climb
        up, up to my night born stars.

2 comments:

  1. I love the "something winged" especially, and the "night born stars". Beautiful.

    ReplyDelete

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