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see the woods drop to bare,
lush jungled being a blink-
      seasons liminal breath.

savage, sticky emptiness,
   flying geese through
   the bramble, naked
   bark framing blue,

sharp, so like grace- the path clear,
                                       space to move through.
Sarah Clark Oct 12
this world of
expression garish, flickering personality
swindlers, cold harmony.

men born up one hand in
the mountain, the other

         glimmering in this dematerialized
Sarah Clark Oct 12
Sarah Clark Oct 5
grasping a shirtfull of stones
        lake bluer than the sky- such a thing
lapping salty, barely covering my feet
                                              cold but then

a part in the glass, far out
    gliding this way- slick like soaked

fur. squinting, harder/tigher now
                   letting loose and dropping
            my shirt, my dazzling catch
                       palms binoculars

what’s this? so I sit and wait
       forming prints in the wet
     with feet, hands- too ordinary.

impossibly, my mirage creature
          approaches, eyes locked
       on me and paws out of the

bluer than sky, circles the ground
       next to me and settles
               glossy beast.

non-confrontational by nature,
    i introduce myself
       and nothing.

       then, what’s this?

and with that my visitor rises and
  pounces on the wet earth,

two prints that he quickly
    licks clean, erasure

then mine. the sound of
                rocks cracking.

what’s this?  no sooner arrived
than split, towards the sagey hills

Sarah Clark Oct 4
splayed in the grass
      my wool socks speak the sun first,
    warm talisman.

so much for
                  moisture wicking,

      three shades of blue.
Sarah Clark Aug 19
untenable time cuts
against the oxbow

reading policy to an
era of locusts

mountains without
insides, simulacra optic

encoded social rent
cultish borders, conditions

dubious grain, bleached
establishments buckling

plow is to story
the regressive pixel

atmosphere circling poles
centuries undulating


entropy the way, ersatz
a litany for kindling

burn the canvas hour
my morning masterpiece
Sarah Clark Aug 17
almost had my way without
cracking, spread eagle
in universal position,
cast low in the turned fields

a thousand swans
slowing the sun
retracing collision
braided wings
fluttery on currents
of plummeting altitude
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