BIRDY SPAR

The bird of my thought is a Flycatcher

Swooping, turning, flipping like a bat

In pursuit of fleeing fact,

Compelled to the act,

Always in fact,

Right where its at —

Intact.

 

while on still wing in clear light

thought-hawk sails the wind heights

sphere below       —       spheres beyond

reflected in sphere of eye, innocent of fear,

remorseless, near

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