Leaf off so it fell just covering
The hole the bird had dug
To find and kill the worm
At the heart of the world
But I can’t tell if that beak
Plucked desire from its shaft
Or if things go on as planned
With celestial purpose and daft
Interruptions for comic centuries
And then the ant of the poor poem
Crawls up out of that hole
Where the heart had been
And starts to build again
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