the doghouse interior,
sipping from the pores
of a fallen adventurer,
dumping syllables of joy
on patchwork streets,
songs of love over the long
courtyards. Angelic blades
delaying over earth, ricocheting
down the oiled guardrails,
watching a fat man gesture
shoeshine pivot on an altar of steel
lands where nobody heals,
rolls grinning in rivulets under
the hilltops, markets mopstick tall
in the alchemical dawn.
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