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Down the winding wind a pale mountain path


the sky a half-black sail of stars below

and vast

up on the horizon rising mirrorly an Earth returns

my blinding gaze and sloughs, and flows, and lasts.

With an awkward, squinting focus

I try to scan the continents

but they’re all oozy

and in a strange configuration.

Breathing in the barren air, my lips disowned now roughly ask,

“how can I see the unbroken Earth while standing the Earth?”


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