Trout-skinned clouds make a horizon of burning pink, a rainbow serpent who encircles the visible west.
My inviolate vision in a life without parole gathering its last flower.
Ashes and dust, a dead oak, an abandoned fire pit: walk into invisibility where night plays catch with the laughing dead.
v. 3 A cascade of syllables rolls down the sacred mountain. Yogis yawn and grin.
Trout-skinned clouds make a horizon of burning pink, a rainbow serpent who encircles the visible west.
These are my fellows, my inviolate visions in a life without parole gathering its final flowers.
Ashes and dust, a dead oak, an abandoned fire pit: walk into invisibility where night plays catch with the laughing dead.
v. 2 It’s not simple, it’s interrupted.
A cascade of syllables down the sacred mountains. Yogis yawn and grin.
Trout-skinned clouds strung out a horizon of burning pink a rainbow serpent encircling the visible west. These are my fellows, my inviolate senses a life without parole gathering its final flowers.
Where’s the signal? Ashes and dust, a dead oak, an abandoned fire pit. Walk into invisibility where night plays catch with the laughing dead.
