Thursday, September 3, 2015

xxxxxxviii.

the silence--if
rose, softened in the dark

the sharp crack, the wind
in the succulents,

hiss and fall, the spray
held in the air, if

the gravel held, momentarily,
sloped and snaked,

and the cliffs sharp, the moon
bright,

between, leading down,
the road still--

the dawn rise slow, the
shuddering leaves





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