WHENEVER
Count the many trees to the
rocket launch. They've been
planted all in a row. This
garden outlet place looks like
a launch site; and whenever I go
somewhere new, I never want to
return home. My open hands grasp
this wheel now clenched.
-
What form shapes take, they must
have before they take it? Or is this
entire life all so accidental as that?
Windblown cultures just ending
up where they may?
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