The willow won’t sway
the sage won’t scent 
the goldfinch won’t nest 
the life vest will not inflate 
the eyes won’t widen 
the sun won’t care 
the ink won’t flow 
the war-lords will not congregate
the clouds won’t lift 
the swans shall stay put endlessly 
the sea to be a never-ending barren witlessness
& the darkness never felt 

The tongue is a dream.
Nothings happens unless first a dream. 

“Construction” Rozell, 2021.

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