at the bottom of a well
the noon light shines bright
and anxious shadows fidget
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last fall’s pine needles
blanket the shrine’s cold stone steps,
weeping cherries sway
dogs run through wet muddy fields
a pianos song drifts in cloudy gusts
My hands roam unbound
Before an unnamed expanse
Lost shackles imprisoning the freed eye in the illuminating magic counting sands
the unhuddled mass awaits
the lurch
still and erect,
the last columns of a sunken city
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