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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