Poem Twenty Seven: The Spotted Honeyguide

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We languish floating

to and fro in a boat

on a river of words.

Topography of what

we mean to say.

Holographic symbolism.

A nightingale’s call.

Verbs like mudras.

Adjectives like mantras.

Put your hand 

over the side

of the boat.

The whistled speech of sleep.

The spotted honeyguide

leads us to the hive

hoping we will destroy it

so he can eat

what we leave behind.

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