Spring Break (a poem)

I am so used to seeing you
Not just in earthen form
Of solid flesh and taupe silver hues

In softly laden aural presence
when I walk down to the science



I can feel where you’ve walked
I can hear the whispers where you’ve talked
Small echolocations of
an initial reverberation

quicksilver dripping from where your intellect has spent itself on vast contemplations of the deep relations

between the creatures
between the lines
of forests and books

I am so used to being there
on the mini-street

Where you really live

and just feeling your sunshine essence
Like so much silver cobweb

left behind



little spiders.


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