Left of the Mountain
holds the fuller moon
folded flat in thin
tissues of cloud
he weaves between
her nervousness
in arroyos purple hills
his stratifications like the hills seem more certain
compete with the little blushes
of leftover clouds
bubbles in her
crystal flute
twilight has arrived in all of its neither
proving the existence
of everything
and nothing
in between
JP Pestana October 14, 2016
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