new sunset anthology

i think, sometimes, i wrote new sunsets into her life. and filled them will deep estranged colors from the sandhills on the bottom of the darkest oceans and laid them on cliffs to fall, and hide the light. this is the job of every sunset, even sentient ones.

in these dreams, no more than wafted sound mid-day, or beneath a three-quarter moon in a sky filled with clouds and they always, like sounds of joy or longing, fade into scraps and second-hand meals for story-tellers.

2003-09-01 | 7:39 p.m.
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