corn blue eyeliner
under the mist of a mountain;
the long foothill neck
tuffs of coral shrub
silver blond sheep and
elderly green wigs balance
the prison lines of naked
orchard with tops like
wet redwood
dusted twigs
with plums pitted
from the far away view
trees turn to sad mothers'
scalps
sitting at breakfast with empty bowls
barbed wire measures out
the units of surface of
flounder plain
with the small Australia of aluminum
liquid above this flat stomach
(all house lights look
the same from a distance
the dull orange
airport bulbs)
but when strung across
the fog facade
of a purple coal mountain
they are the most soothing thing.
Your poetry is so alive it's inspiring
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