Glass

Glass would turn back at dusk
To pristine birth form in earth,

A dying sun proved mawkish
Provoking it with its shadows.

A love child of earth and sun
Glass would break in shadows

That are of such broken color
With no scheme,a pure kitsch

That they violently disengage.
The sun has no problem with

Such a random arrangement.
Nor does a drooling camera .

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