{berets and bongos} 56;

“the campus, an academy of trees,
under which some hand, the wind’s i guess,

had scattered the pale light
of thousands of spring beauties,
petals stained with pink veins;
secret, blooming for themselves.

we sat among them.
your long fingers, thin body,
and long bones of improbable genius;
some scattered gene as kafka must have had.
your deep voice, this passing dust of miracles.
that simple that was myself, half conscious,
as though each moment was a page

where words appeared; the bent hammer of the type
struck against the moving ribbon.
the light air, the restless leaves;
the ripple of time warped by our longing.
there, as if we were painted
by some unknown impressionist.”

-ruth stone, in the next galaxy.

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2 thoughts on “{berets and bongos} 56;

  1. Mackenzie, I always picture you sitting on a park bench somewhere, reading poetry and sipping a latte looking super posh. Just had to say that.

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