being forward isn't enough,
when even the CME hides its face
when the aurora glaze fades from new york
summer rests its head, gone again
the infrastructure won't support these
trees anymore. they'll make friends with the chipper.
leaky scones, boxwood filling
finite investigations with all the trimmings
whatever patented exit wound sat down
while time slipped by like loosened rope
busted grabbers clench madly into the night
so there's one more item to savor
one more light in a cave that goes all the way down
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