An empty desk, a toothless wind, gum in the hair.
The fervent stride of rocks crawling up onto the beach,
A small bird
Shares mass with the moon.

I tell you this by means of constellation,
You see, and you do not see, that’s the
Smell of it, the fire from a star in a spring tree.

And such are we that
With the importunity
Of joy.

The fullest dresser of commonest flowers,
The comb and the banter of the barber and the sea,
The itchy nose of calling roads.

And who are you to pause
Between vowel and consonant?

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