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Foundation Ruin Today begins spring the beginning of fall. Familiar heat and thunder. Once begins the toppling, ever over, waves unending, resembles a hive’s effortless orbit moving down the hour or a crumbling like reading inside an ember, a process of turns on the point of an inward-collapsing star. I move through cities defining, farm for song, where flooded furrows end, head aswivel in convenient oxygen.

Propeller 2.4  
Propeller 2.4  

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