On a day ground fine as if in a mortar and pestle
The marsh flat’s skies became a crumbling circus
A hand painted fresco you can almost taste
A bottomless barrel of anything is possible
That will not erode if I draw a snow heart
Upon its purple suede bone chill long fermented
In the neon pink city until the winds dissolved it
All the while teaching it a trick or two
Then brought it all out here to paint all that is natural
With even more vibrant hues
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