"...whatever walked there, walked alone."
"He could not decide whether he stood on the edge of truth or illusion, or a yet unglimpsed alternative to either." —Barefoot in the Head
Dogs Get Cancer Too
Red tiptinged gold
then a pure chromatic orange
wherever i abscond
the work is soon with me
i gather persimmon traces
from the floor of a subway car
scumbled over by a
charcoal gray
i look into faces
that might have once held light
now they are like everything
buried too long
i can only free colors
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