Pulse is in the failing carpet.
The cover dying; a constant autumn
beneath the evergreens, where the needles,
fans and brooms fall down
into open-ended tapestry
that bronzes, ever, dying with life.
The cover dying; a constant autumn
beneath the evergreens, where the needles,
fans and brooms fall down
into open-ended tapestry
that bronzes, ever, dying with life.
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