The hush, a gull wheels
severed from the horizon
announcing its sudden found freedom
in squalls – not so much thunder-clapping.
It dips and heaves its span
cuts cross-winds
pointed in pursuit
of cumulus climes.
Have Clock, Will Travel
4 years ago
Cumulus climes, gamete times, alpha prime, the first last images slice across my mainbrace like a rock of heaven like a teenage leftover bound for glottal tribute ans the rich dense loam of calm libation as our eyes glance ever upwards till they meet beyond the channel icon moon in charnel epiphany.
ReplyDeleteNice one