maybe it was modern
turning into something

as beacons come warnings

Way way long ago it says way long
In winter’s numb garage Jesus hid his sister
Behind the bike the flowerpots and windowscreens

And she and she and she she says
The world’s kinda busted all day today
The world’s got a crack and a burn today

I don’t know when I stopped reading the poets, but one day I knew it. I had stopped reading them without missing them. But now that I know it, I miss them. This is what happens with any love, I suppose. Its loss becomes … what are those two notes? A moderately high one followed by a moderately lower one. Something in the pipes or in the trees. A breathing or a birdsong. It’s given and then it’s taken. Two in one.

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