he seethes
the moon bright
in his eyes
lost in the diffusion
of golden light
through the branches
softly sung
serenades of
surrendering
hang themselves
in thirteen loops
around his throat
chalkdust hangs
a blizzard in may
of belabored spectacle
a mayhem of hells
gently flickering
just out of reach
Love to read your work again. It’s been a while
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