30.vii.21
575
2.210
palette play
first frost, late July
thermometer fondly
how long have I lived
in this book?
and where on the wheel
of light
the early kooka
unconceals azure
come cadences and leaf
a new sun every day
all blank to this world
a series of nested
techniques
sexlessly come play
have I been in this
poem before?
have you? I dream
that I am waking from
here
morning, all creatures
come from the grey
a day fills with words
like a tree to fruit
like a staff birds sit
to sing
this is the page I am
on
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