matcha mix of waterfall springs
green from my cup
the coming days melt like algeaic glacial springs
valleys carved
and spun from what had ever been
mountains of never summer rolling thunder rain
above the tree line the clothesline of root wire fall
ranging boulders smothered and scalded
by driving wind
below the crawling scarred bellies
plastic wrap and tuperware joints
the plastic castles and the reached for sky.
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