What was sky fever is now a wet plate moon mound.
A crescent grey rose coin.
Misread commas calming soothing mint. Daily wound wire mileage.
Simmering focus. Fence post collapsing.
Ten yards down and untouched.
Resounding rewind and solar couplet
Jitney of trinkets
around the corner, the odds were nowhere to be seen or conjured.
No sleep ahead despite the upcoming sleep just ahead signs on the
barns and billboards. Reheated creature.
Cast back washed iron coffee cup.
Dust work coated book worm gloss.
Set back to lower proof the obvious vice. Smoke back the deep breath of the old case.
Inside the water of the wave,
beside the humming of the hive,
along the narrow sheltered seed.
Away from refugee, away from facing the push of sandcastle sorcery.
Along the sunny side of the draw bridge.
The player reel of danger dirt.
Dark outlook, cast a harrowing net of skeletal choices.
It wasn’t long before the thought of passing it by became the only means of keeping time.
Sacred horns previewed the pouring sad rhythms echoing in the footsteps.
Around the block at morning bay window the heart adrift. Order of chasms, scales announce their watery sequence.
It won’t fall into the dream pipe and change.
If it can’t see a way into the forgotten river it won’t return Itself into the one you remember.
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