a box full of springs
a barren field

breath visible in cold air
a long crooked trail through a forest
overlooking an ocean

a notebook left on a table
in an outdoor cafe
its blank pages flapping in the wind
the first red leaf dangling from an oak

the dot on a lowercase i
rolling under the couch
stale bread crumbs scattered on the floor
a whole basket of glyphs
covered with a gingham cloth napkin

anything that gets caught in a sink drain
centrifugal force and other myths
wrapped around a rock
tied to a string
before the spinning begins
what’s left when it stops

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