I’m in the simplest
super-position
Zero and one
knowing these many
weathered worlds of me
Strangling cloud and drunken sun
are faced with flip-books
flapping startling expressions
A dropped lip and picked-upon eyes
as each tries not to let varying
beauty-scars overwhelm me
Forest lost in ash and beige fields waving for hands
They’ll collapse into a single here-
when my I’s observe in unison
Giving back to sticky roads and taken by stubbly plains
the then-where I can convince you there's a we
calling to those countless shades of me.
1 comment:
I'm convinced.
There's a we:)
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