The sudden fixedness of a once
Portable future
I accumulate
The useful clutter often
The toughest
Goings to bed before
Tired and wearing out
The comfort of positions
To rest in
And now
To avenue
To expedition by way
Of stride
If in a hurry the way
Blood hurries
The body when yelled at
Pat Steir you a-hole
How does one become you
Terrible
I will never catch
That line and ride even if hurried
So cheer up
And read how
The new city quiets
The young AM blotting
The overcast with its rust
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