Okra tinted glass in a
Portable Dream Station,
turns lead into lead sky
ahead, reward of my expression
‘s accumulated stress.
Its foil is snow, daughter of
ages ago’s ingested pollutions,
keying of tints barely known to
our kind, a trance-like
depression, to behold.
Portable Dream Station, I recall the
days before you – quiet before
truth, first impressions.
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