178

Spent enough time dreaming to fall apart

inside, as the purple faded over
the semi-arid ground;  the sky was part
lightness part dark – such well-rounded cover!
My baggage reeled across dense bird droppings,
relieving its weight with stellar fortune,
that lifted parcels into sharecroppings
in which the dueño was duped, dead and done:
I think. Maybe I'm lying to myself –
I'm on parole for my very poor words;
This eleemosynary verbal wealth
squandered, wasted swallowing liquid swords:
As opposed to sheaths that protect the file,
which through constant honing must never smile.
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