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Oct 2010
I look and I see a bird
perched on a stack
or chimney or something.
Sometimes it would be nice to think naive thoughts
about whether these birds chirp with an accent;
that they say their vowels a little differently.

Directly, I understand I don't know anything yet,
and I directly see the world as knowledge,
but the choice is whether I purge the world and
set it on fire,
breath in the smoke.
I could choose naivety but I want flesh, blood, bone and ***.
copyright
917
 
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