Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Non communique

They've turned the transmitter off
No more blip every 30 seconds
To let you know where we are
On any given night there was that beacon

No more whispering in the ear
About anything anyways
The directions become more inherent
Instinct or instruction nature or nurture

Like the little cockeyed man says
No more leaky holes
His one good ear turned into that
Large all catching bucket. Listening.

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