Cross red-rusted drawbridge over small golden stillwater,
sit crouched among fruits in fruit-freighter pick-up.
Arrive in crop bowl, a sun-formed crater.
Lay at the bronzed feet of wise men; smoke their pipe.
Watch black ants marvel at your alien feet,
watch cattle constellation, watch natural shift;
watch fences keep their integrity.
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Filed under: Uncategorized, abraham harping, upton thoroughfare
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