in a large part
not wait
a different way was to write
to ask for help
so there was this problem
and they do not ask for help
in her/his becoming cyclonic one is assailed
down the wet rides of forest backings
he just stands there and says
the circumpomp of nothing: these tirades
oh wide and wet we walk we squawk
do you mind?
what about new questions?
of the side-views one says nothing
but always there is the cave the caving
in her hat she sits imagine her in her hat
reading like that so surrounded
dead now close to sleep, snakes and pixies
the whole welter of female forest
which floor it goes to
the whole template
can you pick me up
and carry me?
clustered about her my boys my boys
the sudden learning of pain
everything else, everything
what do you make of this?
.
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