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What Makes

I trailed my mystery here
air streaming from the cold pasture.

o Little Bloody Hood
retractable, closing
not even mine.

Scrape the plunger clean.
As it breaks, can't impress myself
into these
livid in corrals
particles.

The long cord
squeals into pure
Grains

What makes it worth it

the little winds called syllables?
left out overnight in the cold pastures?