4.i.21
370
2.4
it’s only summer in the jungle
days
of rain waking
seasons
of green
bitten
and so swoop
will
we?
and
moss the bright
time
was telling then
a
clock came between us
the
creek its own way ages
thoroughly
down with the falling
utterly
up with the sky
last
night saw stars
all
way back
and
how does one see so
woke
to the grey
lost
long in the book and far
come
back to where was I then (?)
a
jungle in and gone
mere
words
come to me
hearts
of the lost and true
meaning
should a need arise
likewise
and other-worlded
mind
of everywhere in mine
just
as far as we go
eyes
up
worse
for words
yes
given
curl
up corners
flimsy
house there
shell
and go
spine,
serif, stem, bowl
tail
ascent
run
together now
show
their wear under
breathe
through a mask of them
words
within as well
how?
so
other sided lithe and less
when
once tell grief
the
scherzo
codes
only I
come
crumble will
count
find
out the corners of a language
fill
here’s
orchestra enough already
lines
of the day as seen to
sideways
bird to its dinner
spider
always climbing
up
down all along
dark
bidding
makes
good time of the night
worm
too
each
deep in the knowing
and
no need to think
they
are in the midst
have
no cause to level
cute!
some
thing’s pinching
and
whom shall I find in my boot?
some
sense and wordly
peer
dizzy in dictionary deeps
sometimes
go by guitar
it’s
like this in a trick of them
talc
else chafe
you
choose
and
on a grander scale
it’s
tear off the bandage
heal
words
over my head
bound
for far and away
at
the end of days
come
to the crossing out
bridge
and much imagine
scratch
all
worse for words
who
in their right mind would sign up
to
carry the burden of being about
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