a sun-scarred monument, barren-skinned.
skittish wings congregate in masses at his feet
the palms reach out; a greeting–
he rises from the soil, inch by inch, scraping...
clouds bend to his will,
white puffs exhaled into existence
the sky, smooth as fresh milk
washes the cracking earth.
his body like a moonscape
(stoic, stark, stolid)
is roughhewn and unshaken
draped in shadows that change with
the contours of the sun
eastwestnorthsouth he exhales rushwind and his body shifts ever so slightly, crunching
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