Prism of war.

Prisms of war
Past tense storms
Riding out to those
Rushes the waterhouse
Points of a compass
Rotating around.
Palms of Misdirection
needles on leafs
Rendezvous meetings
island card readings
Parasols for secret solitudes.
Rolling mists
hiding the lanterns light.
Palmistry late at night
on the bandstand
Rings of folded hands
with their own insights.
Piercing blues darting red rippling green
Reed’s and invisible sounds.

 

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