Weird Modernist Poems
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8 WAYS OF THINKING ABOUT A BLACKBIRD
The blackbird w・゚✧irled in the autumn wind・゚✧.
Like a tree
Crossed it, to and fro.
In that he mistook
Why do you imagine golden birds?
The blackbird must be flying.
In a glass coach.
And lucid, inescapable rhythm。⋆.;
But I know, too.