2.i.22
731
3.2
the secret of where we are
is
forever in a way
this
is the paradise paradox
even
and especially the prefect’s imperfect
ask
any well watered shoot straight up
it’s
sunning and shade of a wisp
such
view from entrails of tree!
numbers
off a cliff again
it’s
rude and wrong these days
to
say ‘weed’
but
this is our secret here
where
are the staff in paradise?
who
does all the work?
I,
sturdy, by beard
fight
for crop
am
tangle, bitten
later
bathe
darling
in dream kitchen
kitten
in pyjamas
just
as purr the song
apparently
the new normal
it
goes like this
next
door a machine runs out
blades
back to soil all pray
trick
was to wrestle selves
out
of days and seasons
minutes,
hours
to
live the moment
and
here we are
it’s
where the phone stops ringing
no
two pages the same
no
one’s allowed to die anymore
something
has to kill you
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