cold shelter


i know,
or, need,
i know inside of
mystery, the logic territory of
clamping dreams,
i smile, vocalize a song of
meeting, on a hollow
in december in the mountains
of your in spite of me.

the winter sun
stands pale, weak,
the winter elf
proposes greetjng, sensing the
dawn, in his silver tent… what
shall i dick, do?

the elf is real
shattering the
dead sky with what-you-say
rattles and cak-cakx.

the sun is dying,
it’s nature in motion,
it never ends.
the ringing bell
and children’s barks,
it all comes round,
but not again:
the sun is motion. notjing is broken.

now i need is
how i know you — movement,
as you cigarette or flick
away my insittee… intensity…
of grown kept child. whipped,
fashioned, dragged:
‘do yee like mee?’

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