Vanish

Prairie eyes are long sweeping bellows

That catch the maize and blaze nobility
When fruitions ignite the yawning hand
Or lolling pleasures that reap the pasta air

They smell like idiot birds the wake as wretched
For the quartet and crayons and receding horizon
And vultures sing of surreal broken glass
There is nothing and there is parquet and chairs

And my dreams…
Sometimes become the thoughtless falling sky

Vanish

ryan  munson

Oceanport, United States

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dreams vanish

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