by harps mclean
as if on cue the vast sky empties of color and becomes so thin birds all fall out
there is no darkness just the translucence of very very dark gray
shadow the ash of sunlight darken and crumbles beneath our feet like cold burnt paper
the congress of ambulatory birds crow only consonants
my tongues dries and dilates curiously there is no language to share beyond the compressed layered dreams no one can remember
& a bird walks into a sliding glass door
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