1488
5.27
27.i.24
we paint over
dim slurry
cracks so as to show
we untune
to brim the thing
empty self
out so
we rescue
call all fellow
feeling
grow up over
like the vine
take the storm
by tail
we often
wash away
pump the blood
unwitting
roll over for a rub
we smug
and beat the meat till
tender
that’s a thousand
rubs
all polish
bury a self
in day
it’s vanish where we
are
we hunger forth, we
thirst
how many sheets to
the wind
must we be hung to
dry?
yet the underword
persisting’s a whisper
it’s how we go on
how we go again
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