deep into space, in the far field-
inches are miles these days
and miles can hold worlds.
imaginary balls into empty posts
and run tracks that dig circles
around the turns I cannot take.
The eye spots
white specs, like snowflakes, dancing
on the far side of deep ditches-
daisies making their own chains
les dents de lion
cast their own wishes out
into a breeze that knows no boundary.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly