You stand there
and every one
every one sees you
every one knows you
seeing is not knowing
nobody knows you

You be faraway
blowing mind running
after a poem far from
every one’s reach
(you too not your body)
far from Every One’s World
(worlds, there are, you blind?)
quite far      different

You be thinking
how rough and solid
branches be and trees
the rustle of leaves overhead
(not the deafening bombs)
the rustle in your feet
the wind      huge leaves
at the top     prehistoric
like a thick thick trunk
the little and the yellow
close to the ground
Not oranges in bloom
or eating dates in the sun
or the wet warm stones
but beautiful  see?


Nobody knows you
Corners good for nothing


(Edited Nov 20)

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