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Monday, October 28, 2013


night’s marbled hand
dropped a needle
from an old-growth pine

the constellations have hit it
rich, they have cast their ballots:
the purled wild rock lizard and high-volt dove

a bugling elk grieves his wild anthem, 
fading; one more blistering figment,

suitcase in its hand, a new
mud and fur satellite is lifted

taken to the stars, another light
velvet angel, transformed,

our ears bend skyward

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