i put my ear to the brick
and hear no crashing waves only birdsong overwhelming the piazza with avian thunder confusing the wayward tower shrouded with scaffolding of unhurried tourists cold and wondering what is the pain of lifebreath hurrying through veins of viper eyes relaxed and reading omens of night without stars poison at the mountain top streams rocks watered-out campfires a cool breeze through the trees befuddled and snoozing the murderous hands slice crusty loaves of bread and never give hunger a second chance — oakland november 2018
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