Monday, August 1, 2011

First Number

rolling into, across
the flat great plain.
beneath nitetime stars
skies nighttimish dreamt
of dreaming of time unbent,
in any direction, lucidly
gazing at and loosely
clasping a laze ours
to look into.  Fortune
entered my mind that the
evening trees might begin
to breeze and breathe
for this.

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