occupational hazards

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Paul Whitener the Sycamore Tree

there’s value
in what’s written
in mother’s
edgy voice

of blunt space
of moonlit night
of sycamore tree

of turning away
of self-doubt
of turning towards
ready to die
over, and over again

as is best
as is done
by toying
with the edge

of brush,
of pen,
of small-town mouth,
of tongue to teeth,
of windpipes
saying hello

::

for Real Toads

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