poetry

moving on

moving on

old grey pixelated photos
line up against today’s backdrop
same person? same place?

smoking grey coconut hulls
shower us with magic, danger
either way, too close

red lines barely tie these islands together
and dollar signs drift in and out of focus:
how to get to point B when point A resists?

all I want to do is sleep now to the echo of gamelan
but we must keep moving on

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