the sleepiness of statue
can swallow a lake, handful of swan,
ripple of earth,
ample space; not to be touched not be travelled,
flyhigh cries of envelope lost in traffic of kite,
a conscience ridden island
here housedoors lead to forest of feathers
ready to combust to the bleat of horse
airplane honks are the nightdrum here
unabashedly melting the atmosphere
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