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[As usual, I'll be using the prompts from Poetic Asides by default for my 30/30 attempts.]

Self-made man

If I could find a place to stand,

and watch, and cool-blooded measure

my own momentum, like a gross body

in a vacuum, I could conclude:

He has worn his luck

like roller skates so long

he no longer feels the weight.

He blames the earth

when the errant pit or pebble

hobbles his easy glide.