Poem: Tuscany


a poem by Catxman

If you lose your bet
all bets are off
the trees get chainsawed
time drops

Sitting in each other’s presence
the glow of the moment rises
the shadow of the glow descends
all is as one

The mirror holds the phantom
the phantom holds its own mirror
mirror within silvered mirror
many get split

The grand Tuscan sun
the rows of bare-clawed Italian trees
a fanatic walks the rows
where Jesus died anew

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