I. Twenty-five years.Twenty-five million specks of dust.The flakes of rustblew through plastic and boards:life passed…
Tell me where you’ve been and hold the key up
Don’t look at your numbers,
look at me and ask.
A porcelain jar of skeleton keys
go to nothing,
lost their use in time.
The red sun rakes the grass, caressing the metal holding the hefty tabletop desk, where…
I gaze over Terra, beyond the boundariesOf the swaying tree lines and washing winds,that divide…