notes on vision

Cool pools

from a tired land

sink now

in the peace of evening

Clouds weaken

and die.

The sun, an orange skull,

whispers quietly, becomes an

island, & is gone.

 

There they are

watching

us everything

will be dark.

The light changed.

We were aware

knee-deep in the fluttering air

as the ships move on

trains in their wake.

 

 

JimMorrison

Done