Sedona, Arizona.
Canvas of red dirt
Stars I could touch
Out on the lawn chair something rustles as
I smoke
Tomorrow, Indian vortex
Dried up spirits flock, close, to the edge
Here, we meditate on the carcasses of
our current troubles
Something warm seeps out the
ground, oozes into my chest
Carefully stand up and know,
that I am forever connected to this kindom

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