Posted in Poetry, Prose, Prose California

The Coolness

I let the coolness,
what the morning chose
to give me,
run down along the indentations
the finely honed surfaces
of my utter imagination,
the images leapt and groveled
shaking off the demons
what the night refused
to let go,
The warm breath of day
simmered just under
the horizon,
my eyes still seared
from the onslaught
what days passed
had given,
blinked profusely
as if to hearken healing
before the next phase
began,

The coolness
the thought of such
altering my mind synapses

swept away
in the ensuing
temperature

swept away

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Nothing to waste your time on.

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