Wednesday, June 30, 2010


Jim Bronyaur

What's left -

the world behind

Signalling seasons

a broken traffic light

Sending souls crashing

at intersections hung

between now and death.

The faded treeline shades

to brown

The high mountains sink -

just a little.

Popping glass dances around

titled signs point all ways

all ways to the heart

always to the heart

an explosion


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