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the pitch of it

the words dancing with the notes
as you make the music sing
up and down
as they go around
per-sifted to fill the air
with an odor of a sweet savor
pouring from the jugs of wine
flowing as if trenched out
straight through the pearly gates
and to the right, it will be there
someday - waiting, on its hunches
that timing will be perfect
as if molded in stone
engrave for the day of its making
a little moss grows in the folds
feeds the rock while it waits
for the one, no the five
in the dream, five meant something
im forgetting now the essence
of the walk we took
because the bear made us run
through the back door and skipping
notes on the way, we headed to grandmas
where the cookies were fresh
and sheep couldn’t blow the house down
because Jake built it, with Jill’s dreams
using the longest strands of hair
so as to stop the clock from jumping the moon
while the light shines on

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