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  • The church bells barely visible
    at near distance, if where I
    stand is near, if we can agree

    on that, you and I
    listening to their silver
    tintinnabulation,

    their way of making air
    broken corners;
    and carried on an ocean wind -

    cutting through the sultriness,
    softly in that way sunrise
    is a white tide

    spraying off these homes'
    night-infested
    melancholia,

    their sound, a shape
    within a shape.
    They chime; they

    come parading
    on the evening's thickest,
    the church bells barely visible.
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