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  • Luck brought me to a place of despair,
    A kneeling block for the lungs,
    And onto the nape of my atavism, luck dropped
    this lustrous bright gold blade,
    and opened a dull heaven of untold rain.

    I kneel quietly.
    I listen hard, and with clouds in my intent
    I come back to my breathing
    forest body. My breathing animal.
    My pet heart. My just this breath.

    Luck is stricter than I am,
    more of an Empress. But I notice everything.
    The curve of a bowl. A leaf. The drift
    of my boat. The rain. The way we boast on facebook.
    The way I grieve, when you go.
    Quietly, with all tenderness,
    each moment crystal under exquisite pressure.

    I only mean to express what I mean to express.
    I love pure words, but their drops in the silence
    raise the mud from the bottom. I kneel in the mud,
    I watch for the signs of rain, get herbs.
    I kneel in the sun, under the blades of the trees.

    After my execution is over, I sit quietly for a while.
    Over the whaleback truths of the world the clouds are coming.
    The rain is humming.





    Photo: Wiki Commons
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