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I feel the weight of nearly a hundred moons upon this suggestive flight deck, overtaken by transfusion in a high formation rhythmic way. Fluorescent headphones—neon red, rotate around neutral zones. Push in, pull out. Swim under the pink, towards some aerobatic link to mother earth. And still, we're not in orbit yet. Your dawning glow you blow into my lungs. Will you catch me if I blast away?
Trust the sun (she says)
her first rays when creation was young
and God's window opened outward
as a place of worship
born to be breathtaken
daylight imploring for companionship
and bleeding into itself
as it bleeds into the worshipper.

She notices that her own taste
in repeating patterns doesn’t mesh
with the apparently similar
patterns in Drakensberg
they obey a different logic, and the friction
between them generates
a fascinatingly ambiguous color.

Tinctured cathedral of time passing
on its first layer of stairs...
In homage of The Great Escarpment, a major topographical feature in Africa that consists of steep slopes from the high central Southern African plateau.
No more room for theory
Rest your head from invention
Talk to me like the sea
And I will surround you
undecipherable loss
  • [it's steeper near the roses]

attenuation
  • [the mystery in the trees
  and the mistral sound of your breathing]

dreams of perfection: floral dress summer
  • [the apnea and the scream]

a touch of labyrinth to this world
  • [in the fair and harmless light]

imagine somewhere close by
  • [imagine him waving as you say goodbye]
for Jasmine
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