CrossbeamA Poem by Onoma
an optician runs a light over
a butterfly, enmeshed with mulch. a shaft of light emitted from forest ground, that the sun knows nothing of. no more prescient. than a birdcage flung unto a wire over an intersection. its dome rushing its base, its base rushing its dome. a lattice of bars that are struck as they strike. hung against the contrastive sky of Giorgione's: The Tempest.
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Added on June 9, 2024 Last Updated on June 9, 2024 Author
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