exists near to you now
and until I saw the screen door sprout sun
through far pink hills

struck so sad and certain in the setting
thistle I never gave
worse goodbye

lesser version
miles and miles from over-
coming closer

the tender's grown itself to swell
horizon draining color
from blush

a hush
or any sense of shifting
how we harvest

how we kill we
kill our chickens
still

I'm looking for an even offer
season's screw
or something to do

in place of planting

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