Here it is.
I’m searching.
Look here.
Two moon above a valley.
We cross the middle.
Harness that eye.
Do not err.
Two doors mirrored in the middle.
A torch for the sway of myth… a dark starry cry.
We told them.
Jewels line up… lit and fired like a sharp tasted apple.
A spinning reel of metal
holding spoken drumrolls,
Training wheels.
A child’s communication
with the unseen .
Open lines.
Thin strings
Stuck to any body
suckling a handicap.
We wear this workshop of time
Folds, past lines
To an iron town
with fine water…
Where the cost
Of bridge crossing
Will tan.
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