Illusion hillssmoke signals further visionblanket memory, summer-warmconsciousness dreaminga boulder for a pillowbattling angelsto climb ladderseverything leaves a marklow-rounded, still-sacredsome of those illusionscarry ancient namessome of them carrythe bones of the sky I love how mountains fade into the distance, how it hardly seems real. This poem is the second one I wrote for the polaroidContinue reading “Smokies, 2”