forget fingers /
they had a point so long ago /
now the desk hovers over the head /
and ink is sipped in a morning mouth /
dark hole clapping for food /
wait, the bus blue past /
and the neck never launched /
craned over a dried well /
pecking for its own order /
what a dismal portrait lurking at the unveiling /
the feet are down there /
where the sparrows feel little need
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