#689 - by bushel light

 

21.xi.21

689

2.325

by bushel light

 

ink witted

in buried fire

the way the word       

 

under the wonder

 

a wind clogged scone

the day burns down

 

so other side

by post it

always reminding self of other

these are the fits of which

 

there is the light that comes through things

your fingers, your head

steady with the day’s attempt

 

and make parts spare

a deity does

 

dayraised from how a flower says

 

I cannot read where I have been

wake up in another idea

wakes me up

 

I did it all for luck