Felled by a marvelous wind,
we leave things as they are,
as we found them.
Gloom slinks somewhere
in the periphery.
A pause elicits no response.
We water the dark and are sated,
worn down the nerves
and flimsy shoes. All aboard
the blues express.
Dusk by the handful.
A marble altar for the centerpiece
and a gauge to monitor
our fleshy vibes.
We draw us to ourselves purposefully.
Refuted truths to feed
the hollow heads.
Simultaneous, we burn.

-r. miller

One thought on “1/27/17

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