Monday, June 26, 2017


It was called Ra, once
the day the pharaohs discovered
what burns you is sent from above

Ra, a sun upon my head this morning
I do not pray nor believe in the past life
just this present that I can barely handle

handles tied to my waist, like a bicycle
we would march on,
toes-in-sand, like land-crabs

there is a sun over my head today
that burns slowly, responding Ra Ra Ra
like a wave that bounces of the shore
and comes to greet me.

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