Solitude With Everything
When high white sails
lean tall against our ceiling
(distracting us from
boulders quite possibly
made of wind),
we cannot see
the heavy air
that we know is aligned
with heavy seas.
On average sinking days
night and water
fall each time we fall
and cover most of our faces
with insight and solace.
Tonight,
we turn the whole
round earth with ease
making ourselves
a clean fertile stream of
needs and possibilities.
Here we stand
around the music
of faraway places, offer
casual thoughts and crimson
conversations, and we ask ourselves
what more of summer's
exuberance we might expect
beyond the extra look that some
men give,
the hidden pink hued stars
that endlessly coil
into the midst of us,
the young dancing girls
we dream about who
we dream about who
leap into a sky
filled with monarchs
and gulls who laugh at the
notion of
only one try
only one tune
only one everything.
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