1776
5.314
10.xi.24
most people
most people won’t see what’s in front of them
won’t see themselves at all
it’s as if they’re not here when they are
this is very white of them
that they’re as plain as day
some skin grows over lidless eyes
most people are the elephant in the room
lumber along
their loves as light
they have the extra knees
we must not tread on their tails
poke fun
machines, in their way, know
any animal will
any other animal
they trumpet
it’s a long gestate
omens in the scat so soon
mud pelt
and trunk it up
imbibe
many are drunk on a puddle of fruit
sun’s their hoisting
take to the shade
and have it some days down
look what they can do with their ears
wallaby would as well
their aches larger than all the rest
most, but note, not all
were woolly once
and it must have been winter
they have a little flail
most moan
or take a little roll around
that’s yoga!
or it was
chamelions!
spell things out on the ground with their paws
are monkey up a tree
and slip banana too
most people shoot for the moon
wake sore
will flex wings
preparing for flight
some strut and some peck down
you won’t find a thicker skin
most people are full of blood
wouldn’t spill for quids
there is the odd circumstance
some are sharpened to a point
some people fall from the sky
a stampede
who can tell their mood?
you’ll see them on the circus ladder
how do the hoops of fire
they leave a stain where the flowers stood
some are putting out still
most people are someone else
and every animal is
and note this date
life’s brief whichever way
we’re not forgetting this
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