a creative atelier
a creative atelier
The
mind
of the sky
was a dome
made of divine thought
and
wet paint—
all the
animals
of the world
spun about
a cerulean
protractor point there—
a trembling point of
infinite potential
where—
all
the beings
just gone and
the ones to come, spun . . .
coated in thick pigment the colors of all our dreams
. . .
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