To Make Home, Be Home
Angel Marcloid
The fallen angels are us
End of story
Ego wreck worms in Elysian dreams
Wavering still-frames
Rays through plastic and paint
Warping shadow fantasyland
Place placements in my hand
Feet on the ground
Looking, I listen
Head tilted slightly up
Something's transmitting
This Dreamstreet I drove to ripple and reflection
And swarming still dandelions dancing inflection
And the hissing breeze