The Edge

I love the swirl of purloined thoughts that
float in and out of my head
when I’m on the verge of sleep,
when plans for tomorrow meld into
abstract images of rollercoaster carriages
that hurtle along tracks in a honey sea of
green and purple and orange and alabaster filigree,
then emerge from the depths in a
fountain of four-winged pelicans
who sour over white-capped mountains
that forever change their shape

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