clear days giant sacra
a walking, a donkey alongside
the gravel releases
dust and the dust takes up the sun
it is 22°
it is 6pm, the decline
with sharp wildflowers
an excellent
headache, the sun’s plates
tightening the hills
our dog and our donkey chase, counter-continuous
turning out to infinity, together
we go to balance our trebuchets
slung in their arms
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