its quiet no longer begun
the metal thieves have been warned
still one trashy night I circled,
the purling motors in conference
like rams breathing mist
then flew enraged, tandem
saw the big one screech
in the possum-filled night
it is the same but much more
the lobe-slowed voice blurs and
everything is thin
a glad thought freezes in steam
next door the blue furl
seen from down roller-girl hill
underlit in a halfwooded mind
maybe it will stay empty forever
where crickets slip from rain
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