Choose two stones the shape
of eyes, a cape of bone and straw,
a chain of teeth.
Confine your precious things
in silver boxes, forget their wounds;
they do not intend
to forgive you.
Tear down the golden hives,
let fly each winged mystery,
they will follow you
religiously;
the wondrous creature's skulls
grown roots of leafless tree,
share their vigilance, study
their weakness.
In metered syllables speak
of sleep, tame its hollowed spiral
dreams. Guide the innocent
away from deceit,
quickly.
The feathered sparrow, gashed
and bleeding; it isn't wounds that
needed healing, but reconstitution
of half-digested berries,
scattered, wasted
seed.
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