The Opiate, Summer Vol. 6
So much softer than I did back then Morgan Bazilian Three
or four Long lines in the sky Brightened by a setting sun Moving to pink from white. They force us to stop Turn our heads sideways the way collies do. The city walkers Stop bumping into each other In looking up, they try
to find something poignant
In thoughts now completely diffuse unattainable, and unimportant
38.
