Out of desperation, we try collective breeding,
dropping all our coins at a time and hoping
they don’t jam. The cute ones, never pressed for
predators, hear their names called out one after another.
After this economy, we make bread rolls from corn meal.
When they do come to the front though, we are shocked
to see them. Like reading a dictionary of all the words I’ve used.
Egrets also cast doubt. Is it possible to quote yourself, or
is that just called a stutter? Biospheric footballs
fall to the ground, and my gentle starling arrives.
We have to admit though, we have swarmed to them.
Their delicate, lone feather like a loose faux-hawk.
I feel swathes of remorse and couch down in the grass.
Following this order, I start establishing a grid, letting
go of my on-the-way things. If you look closely though,
I’ll show you the brittle white powder that I call
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One Response to SUCCESSION

  1. joelistix says:

    I found this poem in my ‘poems’ folder. I liked it, but had no recollection of writing it, and then remembered, faintly, in instalments, writing a poem on the way to korea, on the way to wales, watching a strange nature documentary, drinking strange tea.

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