There is a distance we leave between breath and word
Between breath and verse there is a distance
You pitched your tent there
Where in that distance I cooked up a book
A book you mistook for instructions
A book of maps, and curious odes
And illustrations of toads you took to be Darwin’s
Although it be know let it be known
They were mine those toads
Wrought of work, and fat of haunch
And deep did they squat, squat to be heard
In the distance
The distance between breath and word.
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