VII. fevered pitch

lifted   then
     headlong  -- upon  the feathered plume
  of solar wind blown  flares  
ignite the oracle’s eye  of cindered slopes
baring the infinite collusion  your thoughts
mine  the whirlwind’s  harvest
my mirror   hand held
reveals the form
of their substance
pitched and yawed and thrown
into the breach

  crashing downward
tumult of the aerial sea
bedeviled by dust  and dust buried
the sun branches out
 redressing  the matter of shadow
 reflecting the glass sun back
  upon itself
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