I say, "equally empty," my mind
resting on a fluted thought
my love for you is a city
of atoms in trespass of a flower
Nature requires vedic moments
a day of aerial threats, balsam
half a clamor, but it goes
just like Mars, but not vicious
in tuesday's canyon, low and light
the salesman arrives tearfully
a trilogy of air seeps
from the perianth, black
on him who made it
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