Immediately struck by the fact, he approached the heat of the sun,
his identity, an heterogeneous mixture of all the ordinary things surrounding,
everything that lives and grows;
sparrow skins and bonding white-clouds,
his very blood and bones.
Little heat was felt
three degrees of greenest nothing
sometimes just evaporating with each rotation of the world.
From the collection of poems entitled 'Mountains and Polymers as an alegory for life'
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