Wednesday, March 6, 2019

in the midst of chaos

i dream of flight and
my name
called by a cranberry voice
gone
a woodpecker peers in thru the frost to observe
the morning tea & tempest
brewing ghosts & blue skies
waking waking
emerging golden to greet the day
inhale the scent of fire & emptiness
what rhythm to each step?
what breath to measure the weight of glory?
ahh to expand the tolerance of despair
become my crimson feather'd spine

Oh day!





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