Imagine a penny. This is the image I was writing about in this poem.
Mintage 5/22
Hills of words - a continent -
along the edge of the coin - a face - a secret
Rough hewn fingers rubbing
- lines of feeling strings from sweaters
His is the face of the dead
this President with numbers on his chest
Pull the world down to this inflatable pool - let the copper
reflects greeness into the whole -
The hills are cascading - lines of code falling
snow even - erasing the history - the future
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