The Dance Of Discordance

“The memoirs are fleeting
hushed are the wings of wind
her feathers plucked and eaten by sun
scorched to be made pickle-thick.

The mirrors are more liquid
clashed against them are ice-rocks
faded are the oxygenated melodies}
Of one ripe life between the next

The deserts all became wet sand
muddles became jostled skin
pondered the cactus as it suffocated in water
The last thin glimpse of a bright-less sun

The Apocalypses all mounted white
No night in the sky, no stars in anger
All the bedfellows read lullabies
And toying with puppet-Earth as she dies…”

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