Before the junk field reunion
The man brought his scrap metal to the liquor store
Where rye is a trade
The fields mourning for a walk in a flask of mist
Forgetting light in the rainbow
Grabbing wet colors stored in flask
Wafted on
Noon
Draping wings
Catching shadows to pocket
Walk on
Burning hot
Parchment
Pulling shades from pocket
Wren parched song
No words
Soundless urge
Crying for the new
Light and shadow
Cleansing pain
Sharpened angles
Geometric metal wings
Flaps of mind
Smithing possibilities
Moving junk
Mined flux over time
Sleeping then awake
Wren song
Shadowshine
Waiting for pathways home
Scraps for dreams
Shaded light
Slight flight
Denis Streeter 8/2/14
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