my mouth shuddered at his posture
the stature of his spirit took me to silence
thieving or telling,
he held the moment with both tails
a whip struck my thought
and my mind had to swim.
mischief or art?
hunger seeking a seed
i finally fell to sleep
with matter out of place,
threatening the gods of my mind
with new models of divinity.
Ozi late night
still, collecting fruits
a place of feeling
standing, sitting or lying
listening and waiting.
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