language

the birdsong is
hieroglyphs in the air -
indecipherable
their flit and flair

in here:  another world
looking through a thick
distortive glass - as if
we owned all of it:

whales and blood
trees to stumps
a pile of tusks in a van
cages and neon
needles and fear

all the ills are here
and man:  stabbing
his brother in the back
for a sack of meal
his daily bread

and God said

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