(spider on grass at sunset)

On April 8, 2015 by Neil

the fragile journey is

hung

on silhouetted stalks

of fainting

 

that bend

before

raging-fire-hope

 

starved

on plains of night ―

 

to ride and ride and ride

and ride

the waves

of fading golden-hills . . .

 

in Shadrach’s desperate, desperate, desperate cauldron ―

and twilight prayers …

that arc in threads of

thunder

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