in the high spaces where the birds call
found in the broken pulse of time
bubble cloud air and water mixed
drought wilted jungle
listen, quiet, still
mare's tail, cat's tail
gasoline
white flesh
dust
nothing between her
drying paint on native skin
blood becomes timebomb
her eyes on green wave
diffuse fog
hyenas cry in the trees
orange beak and claw
sun
monsoon
evening flights
empty crossings
green
time claims its victory now
each is made of dust
trapped in the constellations
the dead and green leaves clutter
vultures waiting for the rust
stars
rainstorms
formless scud
albatross dying
snake scales lapping snake scales
transportation for the dead
cloud
feathers
fingers, arms
she is turning to stone
a woman in the branches
if she falls
faith, desolation, and life.
Noise, exhaustion, and death
Noise, exhaustion, and death
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