1170
every dream is a decaying city
at
the crossing
solid
totter
come
from anywhere to sleep
the
victim runs away
I
cannot remember
other
lines
where
I’m from
can’t
tell what kind of conveyance
a
big machine comes toppling to stairs
old
steps
perhaps
another dream
on
bicycle, on foot
all
I know is
I’m
– copper in the corner of my eye –
away
it’s
the rain that wakes me
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