before sun fall
swathed in the silver
of a gulf
I return
where the copper
of your dancing form
lit the starry spring
nights
and then coffee totting
languid Baldwin imago
I do believe you smoke
too much
though I’ll not know
the smooth and tumble
of the seed
we should have sent
on it’s way
past storms.
Post Office
atoms to view
the ends of creation
,sighs to blow away
galaxy
and breaths that toll castles.
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