Wherever he stood
the ground gave way beneath him
(she was too busy digging holes
to be the hand
I hoped to hold)
The resulting updraft would sweep
a primordial arc to his apex
(it was the same old smoke she blew
with wool pulled tight
new sheep, same fold)
He's easiest to spot
just after dusk blotting out
the pale neon
of the third street bar.














Devious Comments
writing with you
I think this came out splendidly
xo!
--
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
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