A July Poem: Fireworks

Eyes can’t be stained purple
Or form weeping willow fantasies.
Eyes can’t fizz
And gently rock the world
Into happy stomach quakes.

Eyes can’t light up the sky’s
Darkened kaleidoscope.
Eyes can’t burst above city scapes
And flourish into colorful bombs.


Then explosion.
The wide gaze
Followed by a blink.
There, then not.
Attention absorbed,
Illuminated focus.


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