Here We Dwell

We are not perhaps
a face reading

poor, sad and infinitely

in dusk-light;

now, eyes confess
you have imagined fog

when sky, clear
and mind approached

transparency of sight

as equally bruised
moon stretches towards

tongues of flame
and night

for no reason but
to touch

the wings of flight-

here we dwell and
here we're bound.

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