A shout across spacetime--
infinite
simal beam of light.
The warm overwash of watercolor cadence--
joy of numbers not
patterned together before under your
nameless eyes faceless voice--
When you stand in the wheatfield
the crows sing, too
if you listen.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
A shout across spacetime--
infinite
simal beam of light.
The warm overwash of watercolor cadence--
joy of numbers not
patterned together before under your
nameless eyes faceless voice--
When you stand in the wheatfield
the crows sing, too
if you listen.
For Bear, with love.
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