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The city is gone, gone
across the river gone
to the other side,
absorbed by its sign.
The buildings are foreground & background
factories of space.

The calulations in the morning
shine like chalk cliffs.

Basalt columns
soaked black with light,
the buildings realize thought.

The form of silence is rectangular
a word beginning city.

Architecture of air
is pure ambition of ziggurats.
The stelae are gone, gone.
The steel mind gone.
The glass mind.

Time drawn
to it like the suspended arc of a bridge
on its blind trajectory.

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