and blood and bones,
coasting along on
context clues and
the myth of free will.
Late night occlusions,
bookmark letters,
the folded through
sparks gone cold.
The night is always
this way and tomorrow’s
in on the joke.
Wan light and brittle screens,
these sign from distant shore,
symbols set in symbols,
moon and finger plucked
among the multitudes,
a number to pick
a magic hat—
the rabbit only shows up
because it was never there.
So I walk circles
on the earth
skipping every lesson.
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