for connectedness.
A switch, the taunt
string between two cans.
-No! Stringless.
Just the two. Just
the ocean in each one.
-No! Just my hand cupped
like a wing on my ear
and yours the same.
Why is this happening?
-the failure to regard-
the distant distance
where I carry my heart
like a small tree
turning to the sun.
I turn then, over and over
until it feels like a dance.
The light is always on my head,
An earworm, a remainder,
a lesson in no news.
In that movie
I say stop.
There again
the pointing to,
the lack of.
Nothing is crucial,
not the dying
not the grocery aisles.
But a just inserts itself,
asserting a constant moment,
attenuating a frequency,
a modulation
of longing for
your presence.
Near me
A small bird
fluffed
lands sharply
on a branch.
Can you hear it
where you are?
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