Ningxia...
My
desk sucks
organization
swept by a farm
in
Ningxia the sun
fearless
engine
is
off for the night
peasants'
shift redfully laid down
dig
for their bloom
prescribed
among
berries cropped
in
the late of summer days
some
rufescent
vain
bouquets
remain
hanging
in
self inflicted delight
semen
propellers
from
trees, the birds
approaching
scanning
for strategy
pinching
squirt
delicatessen
the
soft peel
of
my brain begs for
uv-seed
aegis
whirling
the
remnants of our
global
communication system
echo
the
sound of a pentium
one
third
of
a full earthly rotation away
from
my desk
Ningxia...
I can't hear you!
JC,
2014
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