Powdered foothills singing their curves–
such luscious curves–
snow caps asking to be made

a mess with fingerprints. More
dessert references; reaching into
a case to pick a sweet out, hills

like bundts accompanying
some latte but sweeter. I can study
these layers for days, earth pressed,

mashed against one another
to create such mounts like a painting
method taught in Elementary:

foreground smaller than backgrounds,
backgrounds smaller than more backgrounds
than horizon lines, but horizon figures

in the crests so large, they are so massive
my Elementary painting is not depicting
accurately massive peaks, soft some,

smooth with jagged underbellies to press
hands to, massive peaks people take days
and plans to climb. People are so tiny

in every layer of the scene gaining
sharpness wiht height, people don’t
exist, gaining frost with height, these people

we cannot see until we are touching
and gaining cool sides, not jarring
at all except how diminutive it makes us become.


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