Top Dollar For Broke Gold

East wind
Will ever have
More west
To blow over

Ground pollen
Between thumb
And callus
Won’t ever get
Below “ground” to
Pure yellow

And so God’s Eye, the
Twinned-string cross we’ve
Thrown to the bluff,
Must serve as a masterstroke –
sub specie aeternitatis 
Overheard underneath the bridge to nowhere.

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