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City of Our Making The city burning down, the city burning up. Rubble rearranged into towers with lathe frames. Flame the multitude dreams — no. Not these bodies a hundred years after — carried by escalators into daylight, still world of unwavering walls. City of one — cowlicked and lumbering, sea sucked on Market Street, overboard in auriferous wonder. City of divergent narratives spied from a wave-swept schooner — in a tundra gaze of lusty waves — white wolves in the conforming element. Crowd of one’s attention in which a woodsman from Oregon plays the American in an English movie set in France — accents hard to place, smart scarves in a studio breeze. City of conflicting desires, passing girl in whose eyes hurricanes germinate. Gaze arcing from the wharf to the come-hither gull-glide. As a maiden into a cloud of mayflies — Marry I will, Marry I will — swallowed by the assembly around a portable mountain. The city of climbers threading an atmospheric eye. 16 ...

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