Richard Fleming ~ Transformer

Within a deaf mansion
he watered his logs
and stood on the star’s
deep slope of affection.
There were no knots
in the ties that bound them
to any regard but curiosity.
In a flaming aperture,
music was being recorded
in the name of the lord
who owned these subtle lands.
Beyond night, the next man
was apparently singing
like a bird after the rain.

DIAMOND EYE

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