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Garbage bags hang lately
from the eve of the cathedral.

There is a mouse asleep in the steeple.

The sidewalk translates a thin language
of I-am-not-alone and I-am-gone-away.

The sounds of sirens no longer mean.
Goodbye is a bowl of pinto beans.

Learning this carefully, a cloud
moves over every inch and never

touches anything anyway. I, repeatedly

                  quiet through the hard parts.

The tick works its talk inside the light bulb.
A cotton ball in the isopropyl rubbing alcohol.

I take my hand out of my pocket. The day
is rearranged. I put my hand in my pocket.

The name is, I accept.

Above my laundry-hang-pool-drain
lonely little green back yard, some

dumb and utterly
demonstrative bird

feathered the sky with my yesterday.
Pray, that I may get quickly through today.

 

 

 

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