I’m also a Writer: here is Trip to Cambria
Trip to Cambria
I saw Jordan today,
running through yellow leaves
falling from trees.
the lines of her face spelled
memories that smell like jasmine
in autumn. Freshly burned.
May I stay in love with Autumn
when the world is in a state of change.
The seals cuttle on the beach
newly birthed and barking
were astranged, bonded but beheld
between barbed wire blankets
volcanic rock washes up on moonstone beach
and old vents spell circles in the lava
flows. rocks that are older than anything around
the waters so cold I cant feel it.
and my barefeet slip deep into quicksands
its black, as is the witch that watches me.
A magic shop on every street;
and the locals exchange estranged
glaces over a ranch hands breakfast
jaded by the black hills
harsh are their looks like their hands,
roughened over time by the jagged peaks
and old oak trees. The shadows slither
with the breeze and the black creeps
below the road so deep. But it’s autumn pleases
all the visitors that dont know San Luis’s secret.
The wind mills suck the sky of its energy
that burns off at 5pm.
And I am in love
with autumn
and ashes
with snowfilled stacks
fireplaces lit lashes
and black mischievious cats
hopeless with anticipation of winter.
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