 | AMAZE |
Sarah Sloat |
| Spring Somewhere beneath the moss that cleaves to the mountain a spring unwinds like a dark wound, bursting. Blue Morning Milk sky stirred thick with blue - white as brides, the clouds lift their trains, hasten to some unseen threshold. Stars The moon reaches the pond with her bracelet of eggs and begins dropping them in, one by one.
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Amaze Vol.
3, No. 1 Spring
& Summer 2004 |
