All day whenever I tried
to go outside I was immediately
dive-bombed by a bully
of a mockingbird who
impulsively assumed
her nest of blabber-mouths
in my underline my orange tree
was in some immediate danger
from me that soon I realized
how vulnerable I’ve become
to just this kind of slippery
slope with nature which
despite Darwin Van Gogh
and Gershwin never did
make it into post-modernism
except as the laughing god
and his horse goddesses.
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