Algore, poet

One thin September soon
A floating continent disappears
In midnight sun

Vapors rise as
Fever settles on an acid sea

Snow glides from the mountain
Ice fathers floods for a season
A hard rain comes quickly

Then dirt is parched
Kindling is placed in the forest
For the lightning’s celebration

The shepherd cries
The hour of choosing has arrived
Here are your tools

If you want to read even more drivel, read the entire piece in Vanity Fair. Just don’t laugh too hard to wake anyone. It’s late…

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