The Journey
The nocturne sun veers into
the sky’s purple, pink skin,
slicing into its’ meat
that falls heavily onto the sea.
The sun’s shadow spins onto the
sea’s skin
forming tiny hacked up mirrors
or glass tears
that belong to a large blue lady.
Like a religious parade,
with the Pope out in front,
the water creeps forward
guided by the wind,
towards the edge of the rocks
tangled in the soil which seeps
into the blue blanket.
The train slides into view,
leaving a trail of seamless cotton.
Birds float in the sky,
swinging their wings
in an attempt to extinguish
the sun’s blue flame.
