Wind per East
The obsidian wind with the nostrils of carved rock
roamed and ruffled deep afield, decades in vain.
The house on the road where the trees lined
These totems, marmoreal pruned branches, blue jay spoke,
The scent of petroglyphs patrol in dreams,
brows saurian and wiggling, that was carbon steel,
that was a volcano up there, it didn't try but rain,
Interstellar harmonies, unexamined flames.
JF 1-17-19
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