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Calder Sell
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grasses sweep
into my lens
the wind
flapping
wings
my
the gust lifts me into
levity
Over the hill
edges are
p a n o r a m i c
but cropland
Past is nothing
is nothing but prairie
Past
for an
eternal
cocoon
destined
I return to a
broken chrysalis
hiding my frame from the quilt beyond
drifting
down
this
With me,
womb
botanical
flat and infinite together
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