the grief’ll cut legs right out
but the yellow sphere sees you still
walk softly on the graves
give it up for the grass on your toes
between the birches it thickens
a steady hill to nowhere
climbing into the sky
a bird.
orange danish feelings
smiling slightly wicked
a beautiful house
swept out and spiritual smelling
a samovar in the corner
the coat rack was a man
we are all firing blindly
but max the one-eyed cat
bank-stalking suit pins
mocking Trenchy and counting
zippy-do-dah wrong
guilty flashes coming
no wall of faith will hold
the magic charm against bullets
secrets will out
and we will all live and die

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