Thursday, February 20, 2020

waxing tendrils





twas
twasn't

twas the night
screeched the day.

twas the day
screeched the night

ambivalence from the trees
with the crows perched within

surprise from the glades who so recently
sang the praises of both from it's dankness and sweat

eargerly  rancid time groped for a foothold upon either party
angerly the juxtapositioned entities spoke and raked the other against the 

near imperceptible clawing 
of the abyss, and all of 

her waxing tendrils
be of a mind

be sound

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