Thursday, August 1, 2019

Colors are running

and the street's are getting cold 
in the cornrows of memory 
buried achievements left untold

the whole damn thing's on the run
a fraction of a fragment in time
the nictitating blink of an eye

then sound stood still for once
upon a sustained moment 
as if the whole world pivoted

underfoot to witness laid out
on your back the stars drifting
across to the right ever so slow





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