Feather is Democracy

Albeit the heart which never.
Albeit its grey tiles—tiny jewel
                                                 dance. congratulations.
A chime in the dark is a dark chime.
For the forests, the stations, the guests—a gust

of dioxide makes the cloud a cloud—but
what makes sight peripheral or blind? what dis-
    turbance?
                        master. master. congratulations.

 It is distancing from the robin that makes us use.
                  Limb, long heavy lid,
  Feather is democracy but interrogation is the chick’s tiny spine
   found in a soil so cracked and caked no plow would
dare. my dear,
is it November yet?
      for you must go and take your belongings with you.
So says this plant that holds a hand
    out to the
                        dark chime.
                           congratulations cloud