circa (x)
on these bikes these boys are beautiful
/ passing men under spell of god, the order
maybe dissolved
of the bent
cigarette
/ I will not miss art
five-thousand fathers
to burn
a fish
but ease, but hunger
a girl putting all her pain in a turtle
or in anything
lifted
from the hood
of her sister’s
coat
/ a firecracker
read
by a bone
kingsoftrain 
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