horns honking at a moon kite
suspended over sagging streets
shop windows show elastic machinery
paint stirred by a metallic oar
the gloves she threw from a bone balcony
to the stone floor time machine
are worn by spirit waves
melted slowly by their shapes of raging color
the horizon of a bedded glade
clawed buttons
leaf by leaf to pause the old tornado
the lifespans of electric shadows
rising to be bathed in responsive clay
armchairs facing off
on an enhanced glacier
swirls of dirt in a gelatinous layer
benedictine fog.
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