Woven wood

with blue

with feathers and a neck

like no other

knowing the hands

of never known

to know the world

of unknowingness

stepping

the light

of a thigh

in the wait for maybe

to self precurse

curling the legs

of anonymity

until you drink

the dark unto yourself

well I would stay up late for you

and I would get up early too

and I would stay up late for you

to sit right next to me

freshing

the days of nightlife

wherefrom we often

get our days on

and spoiled hunting

finding

weeping

shelving the flavors

of your kind

you can close

and shall listen

without telling the gray

of money dressing

back in softness crowing

waits the mind

of constant motion