rolling over clay horizons
carrying tobacco stains
and old notebooks
stalled beside a fallen feather headdress
crunching over animated bones.
The smoke rings around dazzled eyes
architecture of cold mercy
I slump against a cemetery tree
cognisant of the sex of wolves
that roam between sensuous birches
factories gone silent in the background
one cool blinking light of zero
in the nebula heart
watching to be sprung from emptiness
the bulkhead of mysterious form
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