Friday, April 26, 2013

Wake-up Call

On the move
spot to spot,
gone noon
or higher,

hearing the heaven
breathe in my ear,
bound for the quick path,
point to point,

but yellow heat smoking,
staining my eyes,
melting the way,

the red splash
through tunnels and branches,
bathing tissues and brain cells,

calling my name,
singing the praises
hot blood
does sing

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