Tuesday, March 23, 2021

drip trail down to the river

a harsh ray on a winter day
seems to dissect you trans-
laterally. finally the world 
will have its way

these gusts are sweeping up
your dust. mud pushes in 
the windows and weevils
turn in the flesh
now gravity alone owns
all the future dotted lines. 
rushing water under ice 
came from melting

by Jan

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