The colour red sent
money, leave it at that. Sky autumn full of blue that will be
remembered as one day after a word. Make that wiord again.
The colour red made
money, bits of earth brown and something well you just know.
Green stacked high
even as leaves fell to the tune of rain. On yesterday, that is, when
rain will be rain.
Today is now sun,
the fat part of our thinking. Thin night thinks, but we are too thin
then.
The colour blue made
a ramp into the air, on which many followed for something. These are
days and some nights, and all together we need station.
Look how words have
spread across the field. We aren’t tractors any more, just pieces
of distracted thought.
Yellow sun sleeps
with a mouse. Orange enjoys the daze. It says here, yesterday we will
give each other a chance. That doesn’t mean standing there with
your mouth, your shadowed mouth. Today is the tender time of day. Try
to make something.
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