The Garden

Wild Grapes


you come to the garden
for salvation
to die for a little while
in the ripened grapes
the autumn raspberries

huge sunflowers cast their gazes
over the asphalt borders
their faces more familiar
than friends
in the shifting haze

traveling the mosaic
you gather the gold
swollen with sun

spiders write your name
and the thrum and hum

of wood chips and pine needles
whisper of forests and snow
but this eternity
is all you’ll ever need to know
as the art explodes


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