Spaces …

The world is turning,

Places burning

And everything pulls:

The dizzying spaces between

The grey sleeps,

The sharks,

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Gypsy sits the

Spaces between the winds;

Possessing the means

But, for the moment,

Getting no message.

Surrounded by the busy fools

Whose lives are ruled by iron,

That join the same redundant lines,

Piling day onto day,

Turning golden time

Into heavy lead.

Gypsy sits the winds

Between the spaces.