Wind pipes like spotted marble
In still dark roads the gate of light and inside a cycle or two
Deep in folds of invisibility
Weighted moments pulled, crushed, rotated
Far in combustible sunrises
Hints of fashions years passed
Hard on concrete surfaces
Sticky remainders of yesterday's fruit
Bounced across roadside bumpers
Tridents in dawn's summary
Musics pouring boxlike, vinelike
Treating sweat and foreign shapes
Trounced reflections seeming greatness
Hovering fallacy slides abrupt
Where it stops in sandy entrance
Power finds this rosy sun sky
A notebook, a clock, a shoe, a chit
A kickstand, a bottle, a desk
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