Colorblind Day
I trace out a forest with my fingers.
Trees rise like cities.
Naked branches blush under the evergreen
The sun or moon looked like a orange creamsicle
and night is fallinf like a black veil every step I take.
Visions of indians behind teh embancment of the railroad
brings me paranoia and the swans slung out on the pond like light bulb reflections in the sky.
it all escapes me as the day goes colorblind.
poem by Jerome Moore
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