In The Song Of

morning jay sits in the song of a tree
who sings of a world full of Frisbees
where sugar-people throw and
catch wind
and reveal to the children of the cloud-people
why sweetness is the nature of their skin, comforting
chairs of half-memory and tables of broken-thinking, the
earth continues in a handful of traffic
with an eye on the rear-a-view mirror and a
senator used as a pacifier in its mouth
sit in the song of your mouth

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