Those (orbs) who'd work in marble are a worrying class

high sun in fire, immortal &
storied (resounding fables!),
yet sun's something that
drifting did...
soon... the -


soon the silver lawn, yes,
you too, moon, & soon!


humbled phantasy, blushing to tears,
you see that I allow for spheres~



That Human Air Without Noon


how shines!, Virginia,
shepherdess pale &
herdless, stray'd
from pastures
to waves
of wilderness


so bright this eve
it's Noon overgrown


the very stars bark as they rise at you


their bleat is the wolf's
& one implores your sleeplessness


why, air'll labyrinth her, same as us...
deserted by bites... waves of
the wolf's attempts or rain of
the wolf's attempts, yet it's
the pastures have come for her

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