I fill my lungs with air — feel something strange

in there — akin to childhood — a winding stair that clouds

of dream obscure — or an azure tree of stars — fruit ripe

and sure — of one — last — reckoning

February 18, 2020

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• Warm, the Flesh, Sweet, the Veil
• The E Train

Categories: Drawings, New Poems & Pieces, Recently Banned Literature

Tags: Aging, Art, Childhood, Death, Diaries, Dreams, Nightfall, Poems, Poetry, Walking