irenic

let’s live in
streetlamp forests
with green
mosaic meadows
where shiny
rumbling creatures
patrol the undergrowth,
sweet grey mist
to paint the halogen
sunrise, savory
rain to flavour
colour coded
appetisers when
soft, sandy sky
wills it so,
dark and light
flashing bright
so you know
the history of
dark glossy
dire sunflowers
that swallow the
sunshine
and glow in
the dark
to spellbind
the moon to
an inferior awe,
their finger tips
blink in black
and white
and green,
perfervid eyes
lie awake and
bright, gleaming
and cackling
in glory when
artificial, flying
stars pickpocket
idealist breath
and heartbeat,
you see, we
flow under
electric bridges
with satiny
train tracks,
snaking and not
far from breaking
their afore sketched
journey, pinned
down to the
earth.

T. E. Pyrus

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