the lean clearing appears
like a train. listen;
deciduous dreams are kicked

into the gorge, thoughts become
stones split off the precipice.

don’t i want to want? i think i could
be the child survived by useless tension.

shaking me awake, it is day, &
the body as life on the forest floor.

the keys around me like treasure
from a box of unwanted brass.

in search for sublime, i find some
garbage-bag inflated by heat.

it’s been so long since i found anyone
to share my brilliant red bird with.

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