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April 29, 2007
Stars come out if you stare hard enough; I wonder if you threw them out like darts, the light from your eyes. When I crossed the gate back home I saw the sky, in deep velvet with a sparse sparkle. I thought about it collapsed, spread thick across the lawn. This could suffice as a carpeted walkway down to heaven. Crossing it carefully until the sky springs back as morning comes; I watch as the deep red dye that come with dawn seeps through it like a chromatograph, where this blanket of crumbled crystal combusts with the sunís warm hues.