now i look across this life under the glowing memory of days gone by hanging like a setting horizon upon an endless turning sea, austere aquamarines hanging like a kite string slightly slipping ajar from fingers uncurled gone in the wind unto an endless burning sky, orange-crimson nylon dye hanging like smoke rings always carried in the breeze, hanging like sacred smudge auspicious tiny swirls hang on the frayed ends of my clothes, little hooks hanging like pictures of a special uncle hanging like soft white coals of incense
upon us all
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