Borders - Poem by James Mills
Someplace, within the wool of thought,
A voice, maybe not mine,
Investigates - aspects.
Untangling blue veins, blue skeins
That spark awhile and slide, silky
On their spasmed way.
Some brimful night of stars, or wind,
They may arise again and grate;
State their intent. Vent.
And cool the brow;
Surprise with patterned squaring
The sleeper -
and the sleep.
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