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Where I go
makes the morning stretch
in the yester-moons
to the place where the bow 
is being made.
And yester-moons
of this material
in the space of movers
immaterial sum
with the bow that
brought a halo
has percieved the moon as one.
Over the field
in which moon as moon
that moving left done
I go
with an arrow streak.
Tied with a timeless niche.
The halo just glided with me.
I go. 
Were it to be
abroad with a steam bed
or as immaterial gushed forth with material
were it ponderous or not
the halo were with these.

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The Halo