crane – other animals

molasses dance of moonflowers the story folds itself into a crane

just enough of a push the crane soars over the treetops

one paper crane on top of a larger one the body’s thresholds

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for no reason a song spills out of me as I recycle this cold grey morning

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walking between autobiography and nonsense I stop on my walk to murder the sunset

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gulping my drink like a man just found in the desert why can’t I be more like George Clooney