Orlando hearing your name in its fragments by Andrew Bellon

I am not a silent poet

bodies open lobes
names ungiven
names in their fragments
murder, vapor, buzz,
hungry wounds,
shouts in the red fog

another dark apostle reaves souls,
the moon trolls, heaven rolls roofless

over of a city in the solar plane

and somewhere near
a Florida of an unwounded future
& of our next family
beyond the human enemy

the small sky the weather about you
in the lunar figurations of a June night

time’s raveling sunset
torched the water
and those were all my hours
of seed and rain and pine
and they are gone

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