Lemur

again nighttime wind enters and lays bare the
natural state of listening to the evening and everything it
potentially has in it

lemurs with their umbrellas dance in and out of the words of the
previous paragraph as a parade in the middle of a moment, but
follows the traces of air from this exact second, also

is able to sense the non-tragic realisms of interface as they
collide, connect, divert, or fall away from
what never touches the surface of monuments, for

they indeed are reminders of what came before and the horror
of war and everyone who lost everyone to all terrible things, yet
of course, we honor our loss

even when unconscious, asleep, having done so to the crickets, and
allowed their music to penetrate, slowly closing eyelids, until at last
we are snoring and pianos we can’t explain absorb our

familiarity, providing scenes we can later reflect on, mirrors
of potential interconnection with all things, just like this, an exact
statue replica of a random lemur

dancing throughout the nighttime wind
laying bare and naked the breasts and hips of the evening
and everything we already are with ourselves alone

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