I read the words of poets
placing their black upon white
scrapping and clawing into existence awareness honed and winged
fighting for the shadowed lands and quartered secrets
truth hanging …
hope carving petals into the tilled soil of this day
this night where everything strives for a measure of brilliance
a
pause
amongst meteors and moons
to know with every turn two songs play and a story runs river-wild as the owl takes a left to Venus swallowing this night
these winged words black upon moon white
