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August 27, 2002
Looking Through Glass (continued)
on snowy days i escape
from the frozen breathing of crows
whose blood
is boiling hot
whose clipped wings
are certainly not
and the tautness of phone wires grows
and whether the emperor
expects like devotion
and whether pigs
expend like emotion
i’m certain no one else knows

on final days i keep reminding
myself and others
that those that
have wings
should soar
or
forever shed their feathers

and the rhythm
of my thoughts
and my essence goes
silence quiet silence
and in the rhythm of souls
and hearts
on beds of ease goes
God