Walls of sun-dried clay
Valleys of ruin
Unearthly hours
Under a sun-dried gaze
To admit our repetitions
This was dreariness
The unmistakable boundary
The smell of dust
The heads of dry water
The graves we dig
The front steps that sag
The bare facts
That haven’t been properly gutted
Sticking their necks out
Silently across the border
Shrouded in redundancy
& Pure shining bodies
& Pocket bones
a tedious way of living
a dreary way of living
in redundancy and thirst
In a way this is living
In a way of dying
In a very dull way of being
In a dying odor
Hands on hips
Fused into claws
For dénouement
Forced but undetectable
Eyes bleary
Even without a body
Completely decayed
Busy with dying
Beneath the dreary motions
Beneath a sun-dried sun
A sad way of living
An empty coffin
A meal of dust
A gray windblown furrow
A dirt poor measure
A complete understanding
A clear dry rivulet
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