And then they returned
those birds
to stratify
the sky
to incise
with wings
their variable
trajectories
and sometimes a sign
is actually a sign
like when one letter
burnt out so that
the neon spelled
a name
once spoken
still known
if barely
but no I’ve heard
that song before
it seems if anything
that hope precludes
action
and a chance
sighting
on the street
is only routine
entropy
hokum really
even today
I crossed someone
three times
by the OR then
the PACU then outside
under all this gray
and he was sad
each time
that’s all I know
and knowing
precludes hope
for sure
and it’s not
giving up
so stop telling
don’t
you don’t know
but he does
and how
and so do I
now
I love those flashes of imagery and how the poem keeps flowing stream-of-consciousness through thoughts, ponderings…and that satisfying denouement.
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Thank yoU!
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