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Jul 2016
dirt clod sails
pitched wildly
from rough hands
glinting stone
peaks through
deadly in its camouflage ~

pressed wildflowers
fill pages
ruffled sundress
sparkling under the sky
surrounded by lush green
enjoying pleasantries
humming absentmindedly ~

erupting forth
the barely noticeable stone
sheds the brown suit
upon impact
landing with force enough to
split and blacken
crimson trickle
wailing banshee ~

sudden swiftness from near a barbeque
blows rain down
hostile wind flows forth
distant sirens fill the space
all quietly watched
the final collapse
of tired lungs /
Sam Temple
Written by
Sam Temple  Oregon
(Oregon)   
289
   ---, mickey finn and Keith Wilson
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