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                                                       oh-pen too

                                   the window in the morning
                                   breathe the occasional wave

                                   of constant bird-chatter then
                                   exhale down the street wet and

                                   painted fresh by the sun behind
                                   the heavy clouds the mist on the

                                   hedges and trees and the rain drops
                                   hanging from the telephone wires

                                   down through time





breathing & open & streets & time & windows & writing wormhole: oh-pen
clouds & morning & sun wormhole: stuck free to move within
hedge wormhole: on sitting / in front of / a hedge
mist wormhole: contemplating my painted copy / of Vallejo’s Conan
rain wormhole: tune up // baton taptaptap
trees wormhole: sitting up in bed s i m u l t a n e o u s l y