stone birds nest
in the creases
of my heart
they sing
the emerald song
of the mountain
from which
they were made
a ghostlike herd
of granite horses
pours into the valley
of my spine
an equine avalanche
with jeweled eyes
like embers
with steaming manes
that swallows hurtle from
to the directions of this world
dark swallows that carry
the stone songs
to the trees
and the tree songs
back to the mountain
beyond my eyes.
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