wish chants and lists of manifesting paradise are let to the wind
and the seasonings will marinate
i watch over my shoulder at every movement
reacting to some wagtail scent
to be shy is to watch grass valley panners
and teeth reddened as the crane lake empties.
your eyes tell me words i may be mistranslating
as your steed leaves each dusk without looking back
and i create a chapter that you are timid and sweet
and a busy busy man
lonesome lunches are pathetic but the slow mastication
expectation nestles satiety of some sort
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