Lost Owner’s Manual for the Soul
makes a fair-to-middling talisman.
They are the heat waves
in the rainbow
Prisms are so fine, and fun, stare
at the deepest, pinkest
crystal one: the center will not
implode, and neither blind you
as the sun; think of smoke rings
first kiss, caves, stalactites,
every manner of mist, thirst,
planets, and adulation:
try to sing above
your station: and try
Read more of Dennis Mahagin’s poetry.
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Photo by Jared Tarbell/Flickr