1384
16.x.23
4.289
sorry
ekphrastic for Kevin Gilbert’s
1969 ‘nomad’
this desert is crossing our hearts
a dry day where we are
the tree’s bare
just an arrow’s foliage
you could dream a sea
no one’s ever known
point beard beyond
a rising moon
scratch at last shadows
till the day to come
a dog of bones to follow
we’ll make this our despair
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