Poetry

Sunset with Petalliforms Red petals are best in a turquoise sky, pushed through the hole in a clay head's eye. Darker I die, in the sunlost day. Blood from the mountains. The face made of clay. Distant horizons, are female and mist. Forms are of kisses resisted then set. Eyes up, to turquoise, dark history's storm. Above me the petals fall scarlet and warm.