There’s a strangeness
singing the hills,
lines of insect trill
like ropes of taffy in the air.

So this is where it all goes down,
like a frown or a raindrop.
The way everything
slops about so soddenly, well –

let’s just say
that I’ve seen
more aesthetic value
in tooth decay.

Cumbersome day
is coming to a crest,
and a westbound wind
is spitting in my hair.

-r. miller

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