Monday, October 27


and so descends the night
locks him close within its bowels
makes him move as fawns from wolves
tiny hooves
trot the moss
sense no loss
and here he takes his rest
pensive boy in solitude
how his brashness hides the soft
candied land
colors thought
like it ought
and makers breach the boughs
break the vows prehistoric
forces nature to implore it
xanthic missiles
aimed at nothing
timid hunting
and swells dark disenchantment
in crystal spheres he stares
amnesic indiscretion flares
artful boy
in his prison
double vision

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