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a clockwise wind is arbitrary and has no physiological feet
but it is convenient for its pure tones, for its tedious water,
and this is the effect of its capital, its umbrage, its centuries of
dry hybridity .
it is true colour. it is red and green and
embodiment is its chamber or hall.
the reverberation of time is
the impedance,
the dependency of its landscape.
our fixing glazes the internal littoral.
lined with an absorbent fringe, swiveled and jeweled, this wind works
red air through the bright flush of thighs.