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Image by Ali Abdul Rahman

Vesper
By Craig Kirchner

 

The dots of day hang lightly together,

and a tender rain leaves a purple dew.

The air is thick, with the deep fragrance,

of a million tiny homeless pets,

as unconceived pools and voids

 

lose their membrane of death.

Surfaces that lightly mingled,

erotically twinged at finity,

warp, wither, decompose,

succumb to twilight's legacy.

 

The tides of evening forfeit gold,

no longer beam a revelation.

The fetal pose of concentration

seeks an infinite hibernation, demands,

spontaneous generation.

Image by Thought Catalog

Craig Kirchner thinks of poetry as hobo art, loves storytelling and the aesthetics of the paper and pen. He has had two poems nominated for the Pushcart, and has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels. After a writing hiatus he was recently published in Decadent Review, Wild Violet, Last Leaves, Literary Heist, Cape Magazine, Chiron Review, Valiant Scribe, Unlikely Stories, Yellow Mama, The Argyle, The Wise Owl, Hamilton Stone Review, The Main Street Rag, and several dozen other journals.

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