Monday, December 3, 2012

the misty sun goes down

and the humid twilight's slate-gray

wisps of fog

flow like fingers of the breasts of the hills

I stand vacant on a street corner

mind a blank

being the content of this sundown

and all the wreck of the day it takes with it...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

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