730
1.1.18
it's Monday
it's 2018
the moon near full
now gone
an Indian mynah in
the bottle brush
no friend of gravity
quiet day grey
and lifting
power lines perched
birds nag and
territory tussle
clean shirt for now
won't even smell of
me yet
somewhere someone
wants out of a war
tribe of children
mainly
someone with money
is desperate to make one
it's almost certain
things will begin again
bells of eight
a sun too bright
same old
same old
they say
a little dizzy
a little blear
still barefoot for
the summer
day is waking to us
that means it's
morning here
some of us have
resolved not to bother
I can still get a
fresh breath of air
I wish all of you
well
hard not to rouse to the day, even though....I hear you say
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