Green, gray, brown, blue, white,

hues of earth and sky in flight.

Perennial spin,

without any gin.

Drunk off gravity.

Space is the place to face all

you gotta face.

You got a face – read it,

and weep,

at least once in a blue moon.

Get the salt out of your system

and make sure it precipitates that

water cycle.

Like a washer, that spin

gives the congealed dust of your bones

a clean sheen.


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