Aug
6
2025
convoluted miracles
the red sun
hovers close
asking why
as if answers
could be crows
crossing distance
in shorn-shortest
feather breeze
paths
when in fact
it’s the meadow
breathing wisdom:
bloom
in the midst
of flamboyant
underused chaos
bloom
like a rose
in a sky
filled with fish
bloom
and surrender
to the hot holy blood
filling each eye
bloom
and forget
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