Bird Crave
No license to refuse this love whose names call out from the hooded hole
My face in you becomes so near a distance where clarity’s all blasted i
- sotopic quavering a fazing eros yr conceptual remains beyond this blind
Bird of consequence a concrete drift obscures the light we see by
Ourselves being no light at all a fall
- ing out of light even as yr eyes disjoin
My selves abstract inconstant rates inflate the sun could be
A turbine a stone bone moss birds crave conversion too inside the fault
My poem runs to silence slows these things
Become us truer names than ours we
Can’t hear any more
— this waste thru which our matter rises.
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