Mike Zone

the white noise of dead strangers

ascending particles
mad dog raindrops screaming
the unknown vault amiss
double-bond chemical trail broken
drop the torch
in perfect gardens
deer hunting with Jesus
plucking strange fruit
inhabiting odd yet familiar places
which didn’t quite fit
but we lived it
anyway, our havens
more an exile
going back to the spherical music
of it all
is a wonder, a short-term lease
from outside the void
spitting on a quasar?

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