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and feathers fell from the magnolia tree
A small dog
nips
the morning silence
and the street
comes alive
with hands
purpose
breaks
into fever,
something
to do, somewhere
to go,
hurry, hurry the day
I get despondent,
now and then,
this isn't the world
I wanted to imagine,
my sophistry
melding an ancient art
last night
we were Buddhas
trying on each other's masks,
we plunged into ecstasy,
we hovered like angels
above our bodies