Golden eyes look downwards into the sun
from space above. There are no angels here
only particles and blackholes. Blue marble, Earth,
spins on, and the gold suns, eyes, burn long
after the world dies.
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Alina Happy Hansen
Writer in San Francisco, CA
- Persephone
She claws her way out
of hell, Cerberus howling
breeze warms frigid air
Young buds stretch for blossoming
birds fluttering in the trees