Afternoon

I cannot decide
while away the music hides
in language, in stillness
I abide

I seek the devil and anvil
I’m at their side
all parables I’ve forgotten
too the summer sky

I am heavy and wilted and tied
a storm wheels on
caravan clouds
in thunder pass by

I stroll grounded in casual clime
torn by bliss and weed-work
muted by my own ecstasy
demand of nature: reply!

only my mind—

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