624
every
morning
a
poem!
come
from the Land of the Lullabeast
the
other world's all jingle jungle
always
stuck half there
through
the windows
out
of a dream
shiny
bright
and
fresh of air
draft
let in to dry
painting
itself out of a corner
because
of breakfast waiting
poem
in the tum
one
that spins
and
one that flutters
where
bitter swallows pill
shave
wool
or
a ball bounces hills faraway
legion
of lines!
more
than you can ever edit
less
than you have known
with
no authority as yet
it's
every poem on its own
recognizance
and
many bail!
see
strewn where bin was missed
re-prime
the page till pure of
hat
to chase up through clouds
that's
the poem and how you're here
words-first
often
dive
into the light
it's
without thought of this world or others
I
bid
you a good day
and an unwinding bail.
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