that rolls like a carpet of the sun between volcanoes.
or the particle of light that crosses seven minutes of
emptiness to find my eye, and my eye alone,
Verble: Reads to me like you're channeling your inner Pablo Neruda.
MR: Thanks. Myself I wuz thinkin more like I wuz channelin Gram Parsons via Chris Hillman of the Byrds-era.
Verble: Now that you mention it . . .