Horizon, burn with a smoky flame.
Thousands of women will bob up and down
left, right, left, and right, left, right.
Give me something pearl-shaped and soft
(like blue crystals) to offset hard work,
and don’t forbid amber at the center.

At the center,
fossils flame,
and resins work
like jungle rafts moving down
evil-smelling rapids so soft
the rubbery leaves above look right.

How right
for embers at the center
steamy and soft
in an annual flame
to feel like down, warm down
on cheeks that never work.

Work, work. A world of work!
Dahlias! Zinnias! Give us this right!
Detention addicts, we bend down
and search for the center,
the glassed-in flame
that sifts tough from soft.

Terror makes us soft:
see how earthquakes work.
The example of flame
gives us the right
to choose the edge and abandon the center.
Watch it hurtle down!

Through a smoky sky, it’ll hurtle down.
Instead, something pearl-shaped and soft
Will reconnoiter around the vanished center:
blue crystals to offset hard work.
Feel all right? Feel all right.
Protected from flame? Protected from flame.

Down goes the flame,
Soft-seeming and right
As the center of all work.


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