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he started to listen

September 24, 2016

dropping hints come
from a neverblank sky
and leaves nod in welcome

then the percussion solo
through gusts and peals
is insistence itself

the air wet and tremblng
like sad eyes

a good time to be
somewhere you
don’t need to leave

he started to listen
and what things he heard

the sharp crack
of the abandoned
empty
used
done
plastic water bottle

as it is flattened,
first and then
again and
again until
it is as flat as the
once too-brave rat
that also lies
in the Phnom Penh street

forever mistiming
its run
from gutter to gutter

he started to listen
and what things he heard

multi-coloured songs
pierce a
blue morning,
rake and hoe
and sow seeds
that the rain will bless

the saintliness of flesh
cool after the rain,
protecting the skeleton,
where the knowledge is held,
where the answers may lie,
upon eventual autopsy:
what we know
that our mute bones
can only imagine us understanding

he started to listen
and what things he heard

far away
loping over the lands in between
the distant calls
of lullabies
and nightsongs
at walking pace

footsteps
one by one
is the only way to get there
anywhere
somewhere

well worn boots will trudge
in answer
to the call of mute bones

he started to listen
and what things he heard

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