The morning’s fog has coal smelling memories of several coking fires burning in a goddess city with their low smokes rising like clouds in hills.A little steam emerges from speaking mouths and tongues loll over sleazy expletives for the day.

The train’s honk has no special coal memories except of ancestor coal trains, their mustaches smelling buttermilk and their eyes gone smoky with gray memories ,coal rising from the bottom of an earth that dug deep into greed and misery.

Smoke is the earth burning its ancient memories.


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