when you gaze into the infinite sunrise
whose face do you see
do the parts come together
or do they just spill out
across the ocean and the miles
into the cracks of canyons
and the curves of country roads

my wet dreams
your dry summer
when everything just caught fire
and burned
until there was nothing left

nothing burns in winter
not unless we want it to

stark sunrise: www.whoartnow.co.uk/abstract1.php