![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehHwedKVGDhUVatws5U3XfaB_EOPFgZ_JC2FHGNV_LeM2JewSkPC6utAdrXYR2Uzntbu-qAj34FOSysgiap33u5Bcm42EmXEDBBVvoq3VWJ8_QaajNV8GVnqywHdrbGGtZYnjXdhmhy0/s400/cache_277022006.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm2qMhEF7RtFNisSCrdYDhg1a4rZJKEf0JrbEETU9q32QSGN-pQXmfhwlNHReeDRF-EBJCIu_bTVWRQLnNMdnyVuIQVhxe4SWh14C_sYvAcYT9chKJXll_gWrukebwvhFhNmVq-aVhGkg/s400/cache_277022206.jpg)
...there is enough machine within our eyes
to fill a thousand junkyards full
to make the stone break into plastic clouds
of colored dust
and happy play
...there are enough straight lines that bound a shape
to make us speak right to the point
to get us thinking we are right or wrong
beneath the clouds
See more of Jan Vormann's Dispatchwork here.
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