Speed of sound
at his behest
vapors peel off
signs trail
not far beyond
first steps
off the last plank
Every day, I look
into a web
castigate the lines
impossibly
until the pounding bell
dulls the sound
in my mind
From the plane
ground looks settled
patterns emerge like increments
dropping off
each margin, surmounting
submerged
circular firing
So parched
itching the throat
etching irritants
imbed the skin
dots in motion,
moving, form the corners
slowly encircled
scratching the center
I guessed the perspective
from which spokes
of the ground till
contemporaneously pulsing
pushing bulbs
seeding fields
of backward vision
WE were there
warmth in winter
flowering
awakening premature
immediacy
presumptive innocence
someone will pick us up
the brilliant, telling sun
won’t expose
our fallacy
MM 7/2021
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