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Playing Militia

Even in that place of final exile
among tombs, and mechanical inscriptions,
each leaf is a different green,
flower of a different kind
of red and yellow; also each ripe fruit
tumult of a really different seed
there, in that place.

Outside in the traffic
between the city's indifferent wheels and feet,

amid a hatred of trees,
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7/31/2021 11:50:38 AM # 1.0.0.666