Today I breathe
no politics: pause
between raindrops
read Dawkins
pet my unherdable cat
ponder dullard’s laundry.
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Eggshell bird half
left on your gravestone
etched into limestone
don’t even know who
you are were meant to be
studiously
mythologically
deadly controuniversality
definitely notoriously silently
intentionally for stranger
passages of White Godesses
Graves.
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In the woods, now
listening to bird calls
squirrel flutterings
butterfly wings.
Lucky me.
In fearless privilege
the presence of
such ordinary things.
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Pencil on paper. Images arise. Message received.