Friday, February 4, 2011


I remember
In scorching summers
The final hours
Of pulsing sun
When, just before
The darkness came,
In heavy curtains
And whispered winds,
The magic of
The steel-cut silence

And I would open
My front door
And sit outside
On my front-step
To let the crickets
Sing to me
The sweetest songs
In harmony
As coarse as
On husky horses

And in the sky
Of California
The stars strung out
Like angels in Heaven
To break my heart
As I yearned to fly.

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