Place

Place is its loose dust and red powder, all over the road with iron ,for shipping
to far lands in deadweight for money.Place is blood money, revenge on hills.
Place weighs down ships by its redness and looseness of soil, a rubble of body
granulated and pouring in bag chinks.

A shrub blinks at redness and is covered in eyes at the opposite hill, entirely nude as hill competes in redness with sunset. Sun is not place ,only time for bleeding.

Place is man-altered landscape of color when green changes to red, red to gray. Water changes to land boiling for men to change their dresses, to eat breakfast and fuck their women in shades of gray.

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