soon my love, soon;
today's hours are minutes,
themselves seconds;
almost whole.
some less, some more;
pin-straight;
others tight and coiled.
if borders are man-drawn dashes
and dots, aren't tick-tocks as much
to wall-hung clocks?
Violet Capillaries on the Way Down
-
Reality disappears
On the shifting plateaus of trail
As moss turns
So amiably
Into clover.
The sensuousness of the illusion
Is all that matters.
It keeps imp...
12 hours ago
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