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ARCHEOLOGY AFTER SOUP by Henry R. Williams

How lifts now the vagabond sky, meteoric wisps and white jet trails on cobalt blue with squashed sun, compressed expunges. Apricot & rose-hued horizon, likeness of rain anticipated leaves the woven concentration of her brow and a few too many clouds are ants all over the honeyed sky once dawn has drained its colors. Worms licking the soil knew how clean the earth’s decay but as Elias thought of his eventual dirt mates, he could not help but squirm & consider the disintegrating fires preferable. Incomplete his crumble worked upon his smile like extracting a lost city with teaspoon while the jungle continues to grab.

Spudgun #1  

Magazine of poetry and art

Spudgun #1  

Magazine of poetry and art