I listen to no one else
otherwise quiet morning
the rain barrel is full
clear all the way to the bottom
where the muck is sleeping
I can’t believe this tree
makes so many forests
but nobody wants them
and to think the birds regard us
as finished objects
their lives are so brief
I need a new nose-warmer
now that you’re gone
ants come for the crushed snails
you left in your wake
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