ready now

should be ready now wedge the gates

and get gone last on the loud leash

fall your way in the steamy tarmac that flows

look up son the whole pulse that surrounds you

arc of you little owl fasten to your autumn

and let the current through


daughter my thread twined through august piled leaves

missel reed blow the weathering harp clean

and be play in the bobbing leaf

dawn tear my measurers tape

cinder right eids

little owl under words

torch your canopies and catch


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