Writing in Whangarei

Kicking it

The fields wind themselves
The fields walk into the moon
Get with what you’ve got
What you’ve got
The maps trickle mica plates
We fall into the trapezoidal air
The bright is darker
We’re all just doing what we can eh
We’re all just doing what we can eh
Walking back down to the base of the ladder
Kicking it
Kicking it

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