Sunday, April 11, 2010

once upon

Reds, oranges
Yellows, browns

Cold slickness
of autumn
underneath bare feet

We trampled slow, steady
Our minds filled with
the soft gray
of a cloud bank
that won't move.

There are boned beneath us
Thousands of years
reabsorbed in the womb

There are songs being sung
above us.
Birds giving alms
to the hiding sun.

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