Angel Soil
Small city or big Town?
Smaller pulse with more boom between the beats
citizens sing their subculture blues
dancing to the light of their subculture
hues
between their stomp there is more space
this is
my home where I do not reside
the dot on the map that is my X
a dusty heaven
where my dirt angels gather
angels not of celestial space
ascending with majestic grace
they have been
Bumped
&
Bruised
Dragging their wings through grit and
gravel
With as many that can fit into together
They wave their wink and wonder
And its wake lifts the soil between their
stomp
Whirling to the boom boom of their beat
Into a rambling cloud carrying a sweet tune
Amongst my pace
in my present space I close my eyes and
listen
And begin to sway as that cloud comes my
way
And I sigh
Then hum
I tap
I snap
I find myself
dancing
occasionally between the sweet tunes boom
boom
it rains angel soil
and I find the space
to sculpt
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