Watching you this night,
Ready -
No, almost ready -
To flutter away,
I sense my own mortality, and
Want to tell you this:
Once
You were so little
I held you Between the palms of my hands.
I live in Phoenix under a white hot sun and wander time and space. I see poems whole. Images come to me in rhythm and color with line break. Previously I lived on Long Island near the ocean, where the mist and fog and thick grey air create a separate reality.
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