1588
5.127
6.v.24
making allowances
because of
what we’ve let
the hurt,
the war
beauty,
terror
the
straight down rain
bucket
leak
the day
the moon the stars
choke back
a fire
call
thought
runs to seed
truce and
tickle
in less
than so for dead yet
treasonous
resort
some call
it weed
and some
too high
things out
of hand
feral,
framespilled
the moss
reach
a vanish
old wisdom
struck
mid twirl
the world
allow x to
be
and some ask
why
it’s
anyone’s up-above
same
healing over
this
juggling ball
its old
tricks
river on
tree up
and all
the orb
as green
as blue
as far
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