Thursday, May 11, 2017

APOLLO: ATMOSPHERES AND SOUNDTRACKS

It's like—when you
wake and you

walk out the front door alone
and the

morning's all mudsilver,

silent
beads of dew on greenblue

hostas in the wet dirt

spring to mind
visions of

faraway planets

whose hot
remotest jungles

and freezing
cold untrammeled beaches

are airless, soundless vistas

where
you can't smoke cigarettes

and
music won't exist

and which
you'd practically have to be

dying—to visit.

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