crashing sounds and babies crying,
a soprano effort in those too young to sound ethereal
just screeching and squawking birds
more like
aggrieved by infancy.
no legs to say the things we shouldn’t,
concerned stumbles, fumbles
of general malfunctions.
The floor seems a good place to crawl –
a gathering place of the less comfortable,
slouch back, no muscle strength;
sit, collect . . . meditate the day
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