far under the cloak of appearances.
Frolicked there
with a time bender,
with a harp of cages
the sweetest snare.
Fell from great heights
in their alien slumber,
to a dashed-out piece of wood
to a radiant armchair.
That forgotten window's closed,
there is no return
to the fading clouds beyond
or the first day's mouth
that only thirsted.
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