Ashland by Ben Van Loon








He was sitting on the roof smoking White
Owls thinking that tomorrow would be
the same watching little gloaming spirits
slip and disappear towards Salasuud
over the echoes of sighs and sirens
and the neon hums of the hourly
motel across the street where sometimes She
would watch those little gloaming spirits slip
into their shared silent conversation
about deep space and weightlessness and love


Ben Van Loon

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