Fast and ever,
speedy the bright
till soil weals and field’s light
a beckon, a call, never

about all patterns, ne’er
near the edge of a cactus sit
men with teeth and trousers
near cat’s gesture with pale flowers
the men gaze, a counterfeit
form and function, the sun blooms

a beckon, a call never
till soil weals and field’s light
speedy the bright,
fast and ever

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More than can ever meet the eye. Make the eye meet itself, and maybe the fertile soil will finally become green with envy or classics. That in itself might make all of us more and more interwoven, but some of us (like me) reject the interwoven bits because we are too ugly or oversensitive or maybe it is the same thing. Continue reading