knocking in the night
yellow sounds appear, no glass
and ponds, hissing plants
the bridge's dirge, fallow
smudge, I leave the car, next
chapter. Do you have a rope,
a cigar burns the blimp's threads
for money, a fulcrum
the stove creaks, it is a breath
doubling towards a dream
the cat tilts the chair
whose inflowing thoughts have ended
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