2238
7.45
15.ii.26
a tree
is fire
and lines rung up
is a song and come on the
breeze
scratch signs
lives so arrayed
tell the claws along
first and last
all night’s there
every web spun
make midst of a clearing
gather skies in
from seed furl
from dawns done
it blunts the axe of mind
there is the story I’m
telling
there is the here of it now
a tree is fire
we ring around
here’s our compass still
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