Incense cedars worry
at the edges of the swale
watch multitudes pass
on the road
chained together.
Their feathery eyelashes
drink in the rain
hang up the fog.
They give everything
to keep soil together
twist this way and that.
It is just unclear what to do.
This will be where light is shed.
Tall scholars of air and its perfume
driving men mad with desire then
angry as angry can be
at those whores those trees.
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