Lips

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A seam in the afternoon sky
Between front and turbulence
Unsettled
Soon the trees bend to breaking
Later, the wind dies handsomely
Leaving one to draw lips and upward
Portions of face of fantasy and past

I Ching remembers forgetting two things
At one time so image and form
Dust away while dog gets soaked
To later shake his experience
Then sleep like master

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