These poems were totes from the first day o class, makes you think of the good ole days don't it.
They were the erasure poems we did ( or I did anyways.)
Past passing, like a bird
Conjoured from a retiring cloud
Burned horizon
Rest its stern
a deity, pedaling past the crests.
the light
tangy, ripening leaves
the hours
become something else
water from a hill's highest point
pollen, touching everything
loss
yourself, on the light and the birds
singing forever
((super deep I know I know))
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