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Updated on August 30, 2013

Sunset in Hyannis Port Harbor



Rosy is the sunset that runs my yard

Down to death and renewal

Each day I’m reminded of mortality—

The motor under the hood that quits

And puts on a new face to fly

Never knowing why

The light is scribbled and scrubbed

Born to rub

The East like a rag

Colors burst and drag

The sky’s a painted ceiling

Full of lovers and feeling

Till the tree-line swallows

Down, down, down

The Earth’s musty throat

Setting fire to the town

Then smothering with a coat

The West adjusts a haze—

Her last death-craze

Never coming again

Gone in a smog of unimaginable ether

The world needs a teacher

In the moonlit hours

An idol we can reach for

When light dims and cowers

We all have features

That desire attention

This is why She’s born ablaze

These are the days

God was impeached for.

-Mike Head 4/27/13


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