Thursday, October 22, 2015

Maple

















It's time for
the red organelle.
The blood has
stopped flowing and
the link to the
present is severed.
She falls from now
where the trees
stretch their experiments
toward the sun
up through holes
in the air,
down to the cloying
darkness of the collection,
into the accumulation,
back in time
to the place of origins.

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