Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Sunset on the Grand (ipod)

At the terminus of song we pause as though time is folded

                                paper                      and guitar folded

into equal parts.                   I count four, heavy two and four

then softly seven times above.                         The trail is mud

earlier rain now mixed into the valley’s earth and this rust
which falls from metallic sky

so slowly oxidized                               a drop of blood

your summer smile              a chunk of time meteorite

impacted upon the peneplain which our emotions have become.

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