1789
5.327
23.xi.24
instinct
for wise surprise
back there becoming
deep in a secret dark
it’s brittle
take the words as they come
where we come apart
take cloud from the head
when with love we’ll call it
bird full of tree chatter
there’s a ladder just struck
shining where we are
alert to the turns of the world
by rag by brush by scratch stick
you could break a heart on this
paint over the day to be here
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