here is the sweet hand you always turn back on yourself
and hold where the ear goes and try to hear what you need to hear.
the way it was put. a bird went to the phone pole and knocked a hundred
times and here i was looking for a hammer all along to knock back.
all the tools are crushed. i swear to them i only make sense between periods.
translation comes awfully late and if the woodpecker got out of control, caught up
in a pole rung, for example. well, my forehead. i am well pecked and out of excuse.
