the occasion, the hour.
Overjoyed with what exists,
matching the moment.
Watching the surface play
on the depths. Made
useless for the leaders,
all the groups, all the carefully
assembled bullshit.
One man staring from a park bench
into the infinite
unpromised beyond.
Bones of black-eyed susans
sky's shell of reflected rock,
twin pierced ideas
flowing and holding.
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