[Image: Chris Galford]
Dusting the crop
Of harvested featherheads
On the abstraction
Of indesolate spheres of incandescense;
Burning brightly, in the Autumnal candles
Of forest delights.
Condescending the metachimes of clearessence
He speculated on the matters of improvisation
In spectral meanderings.
On the gloating fusion of afterfacts,
And indulging in the cohesion of solar flares,
He plunged into the fragrance of coronal mandarin.
Arising from the sparkler fires of thought
Icarus merged with the complexities
Of the entirety, gaining,
The ultrimagination of the future born wizards
Of integral motion.
Erasing the dew from his brow
He plunged into the morning sunset.
Roger Allen Baut