Douglas McHargue, On the Last Day of the World

Douglas McHargue
ON THE LAST DAY OF THE WORLD

I want to hang
over that abyss
my feet not touching
earth’s raw edges
just drift through thinnest air
on that hammock of tulle
stretched between two stars,
swinging me
over mountains,
drunk on purple

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16 thoughts on “Douglas McHargue, On the Last Day of the World

    • Thanks for a great comment – good to know one feels “unencumbered” by something I’ve written.

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