NaPoWriMo 6

for Jess

 

the fuzz eloped—
then the dogs who
smell pot on things 

		there are almost no friends 
		then a metal bird—the borders
		that keep things—meat sacks

	fuzz in eye in wind 
	fuzz ordained—not 
	fuzz contingent

the people change 
become librarians 
met well to refer 
to pollen in such & such

	but [still] a few birds to tell
	what you’ve done
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